Where the Sky Meets the Sea
by lordoftheringsfanficreader
Summary: As slave to a former pirate in Port Royal, Charlotte has been trapped in a painful life for too many of her seventeen years... until Captain Jack Sparrow swaggers by.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** Welcome to _Where the Sky Meets the Sea_! If you're a new reader, thank you so much for clicking. I hope you enjoy and feel inspired enough to leave a review; each one means so much to me, and I'm always open to suggestions and critique. If you're a returning reader, you get extra hugs for sticking around this long! I've made some revisions, mostly with writing quality, but also with some minor plot points and details that may become more important in the future. (See my profile for more information.) I just hope you still enjoy!

Quick notes: this is a brief prologue written in third-person, but the rest of the chapters are longer and written in first-person. I probably won't include any more author's notes in these revised chapters, so you won't hear from me until I post the two newest ones. Probably for the best. XD

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of _The Pirates of the Caribbean_! Any characters you don't recognize, however, are pieces of my imagination.

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Prologue:**

One warm night in September, Abigail Thomas, a young woman of eighteen years, anxiously walked down the dark streets of Port Royal, carrying her little nine-month-old child with her. The sleeping baby girl's head rested on her mother's shoulder as Abigail's alert eyes scanned the rows of small houses on the street, searching for her daughter's new home. _New home. _Those words would frequently bring tears to her eyes when they resonated inside her head, but now was no time for them. She had to find this new home for her daughter, or she would never have one at all. At this point, anywhere was better than the circumstances she lived in now, even if those circumstances were prevented from reaching the child by the safe and warm arms of her loving mother. But who knew how long that safety would last?

It wasn't long before she spotted the right house. The home of Mrs. Emma Corley. Though they had never been properly introduced, she knew much of the kindly Mrs. Corley; she had to. She wasn't about to leave her child with just anyone.

Emma Corley had always wanted a child, but being unable to conceive, her wish never came true. Now at the age of fifty-three, she was living by herself (because her husband, supposedly a merchant sailor, was hardly ever home) in a small part of Port Royal, working at her humble but fulfilling bakery for a living. Mrs. Corley was a very kind and decent person--Abigail was sure she'd make a fine guardian.

She stopped in front of the door of the house, took a deep breath, and gave it a knock. In a few seconds a candle was lit inside, and a woman in her nightgown came to the door and opened it a crack. "Yes?"

"Are you Mrs. Emma Corley?" asked Abigail, a sheen of worried and desperate tears covering her eyes.

"Yes," Mrs. Corley answered. She noticed the child in her arms. "What is it, dear?"

"Please, Mrs. Corley." Abigail carefully cradled the child in her arms, more of those tears forming in her eyes. She knew this would be difficult, and that there would be no way to prepare for it, but that knowledge was never any comfort. "My husband and I can no longer take care of her... we love her dearly, and want her to go to a loving home."

"Oh, darling," whispered the older woman. She opened the door wider and looked affectionately at the baby girl.

"She deserves a much better life than the one we are able to give her. Please, will you adopt my daughter into your home?" She'd repeated those words in her head so many times, finding no other way more persuasive. But really, the raw truth was all that was needed.

Emma greatly pitied the young woman in her doorway and was already in love with the baby girl. She opened the door all the way and motioned for her to come inside, saying,

"Come, come, now, dear. Let's talk about this."

---

"Will you ever return for the girl?"

"I... don't know," she answered quietly, heartbroken tears silently but steadily coming out of her eyes as they had for the past half hour. Mrs. Corley took a deep breath, considering everything Abigail had told her.

"There, there. I'll take in your little angel." She tenderly touched the soft skin of the child's cheek. Abigail looked down at the bundle in her arms. Her baby was no longer asleep, but still drowzy, looking up at her with a calm curiosity. Exhaling a shallow, slightly shuddering breath, she held her child close, her cheek touching the young one's warm and vulnerable head. _Know I love you... I'll always love you. Always. _The baby cooed quietly. _Always. _Closing her eyes, she placed a long, gentle kiss on her daughter's temple. When they opened again, Mrs. Corley offered her a reassuring look. Abigail placed the child in her arms.

"Thank you," she said, averting her eyes. She felt so empty. "I could never thank you enough for doing this."

"Of course. God bless you."

Abigail nodded gratefully and turned towards the door. She had to leave as soon as possible, but all the need to hurry left her after she left part of herself in Mrs. Corley's arms. After opening the door but before leaving, she turned one last time to the other woman and her baby, mouthing,

_Goodbye, Charlotte._

---

For eleven years, little Charlotte Thomas remained under the care of Mrs. Corley, being brought up as a kind girl to become a gentle young woman. She worked at the bakery, running errands, stacking shelves, and if she was lucky, sometimes she'd even get to "help" Mrs. Corley with the baking. Emma also schooled the girl herself, and under her care and love the daughter she'd wished for grew in a way Emma knew would please the real mother of the child.

Though Abigail Thomas didn't know this when she left her daughter, Mr. Corley was a pirate--definitely not a merchant sailor. During the period that Charlotte was there, every single time that Mr. Corley returned home (which was only once every year or so, and he'd stay in Port Royal for just a few days), Charlotte was sent to the neighbor's house. As she got older, she began asking questions. Every time she asked Emma about Mr. Corley, she got the same answer: "He's a rough man, sweetheart. He doesn't really take to children too well and I just don't want you to get hurt."

Being the wife of a pirate, Mrs. Corley knew much about the life of one. Charlotte, being a very curious child, would beg Emma to tell her a pirate story almost every night. These tales never failed to amaze her, and she never tired of hearing about pirates like Blackbeard, Captain Kidd, and most of all, Captain Jack Sparrow. It was safe to say that Charlotte knew far more than the average little girl about the dark history of the Caribbean, without actually being on the sea herself.

The two lived together peacefully until an unexpected event changed Charlotte's life for the worse.

As Charlotte was on her way back to the bakery after making a delivery, she noticed a small crowd gathering down the street. As she got closer she realized the crowd was actually in front of the bakery. Sensing some sort of trouble, she ran as fast as she could to the small street corner. She pushed through the crowd and into the familiar hut, losing her breath at the sight of Mrs. Corley, completely still and sleep-like on the ground. The other two cooks looked up to the little girl with the saddest expressions she'd ever seen. Her guardian was dead.

Two days after Emma's heart failure, her husband happened to arrive in Port Royal. He didn't seem incredibly surprised or dismayed about his wife's death, but attended the funeral and went to his house to collect the possessions. The neighbor temporarily caring for Charlotte until the "merchant sailor's" return brought forth the child, and after a meeting of shock and forced politeness with the guardian, Mr. Corley locked Charlotte in her bedroom and left her to her tears; having no idea what to do with the girl. But the arrangement didn't last long. The next morning, she was given away into the hands of Mr. Corley's former crewmate: Samuel Harvey. Though he'd given up the life of a pirate, Mr. Harvey continued committing crimes against the Crown on land as head of a large (though not very successful) group of criminals across Port Royal, and even a few of the other settlements nearby.

Needless to say, Charlotte had now fallen into the worst of hands.


	2. Six Years Later

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter One:**

"Now, you get the water, you come straight back. No more funny business. Understood?"

I nodded mutely.

Sam grunted, shoving the oversized bucket into my arms.

"Well, go on, then! Go!" He pushed me out the door and slammed it shut behind me. I straightened my posture and started down the road towards the well.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was exposed and shining, the air was warm, a cool breeze blew, but all the beauty did little to lighten my mood. The days seemed to be getting longer, and I didn't know how much longer I could take it. Each year only got much worse than the last.

I had lived with Sam for almost six years in a cramped, four-room hut, working like a slave. I cooked, cleaned, and did anything else he wished me to do. If I displeased him, which was often, there was definitely some punishment to be enforced. He used different methods, but I'd gotten used to them by now. Maybe things weren't as bad as they used to be... at least now I knew how to conduct myself "properly" while working for Sam. That was something, wasn't it? Well, it didn't really matter. No matter how I was treated, no matter how I behaved, I was stuck there. I couldn't run away, though I'd tried a few times about a year before. I couldn't get help. The rest of my life seemed very, very bleak.

After a few minutes I reached the well at the end of the road. As usual, a few other women were there chatting and gossiping with each other. I normally didn't participate in these conversations, as I didn't really have anything to say, and Sam would fume at me for taking too long to retrieve the water, but I enjoyed listening. After all, it was one of the only ways I could hear about what was happening in town.

As I waited for a maid in front of me to get her water, I overheard one of the women say,

"…I think he well deserves it."

"Aye," agreed the more ample woman she was speaking with. "Is the Lady of the house to attend the ceremony?"

"No, she can't. It's invitation only, but she wouldn't be attendin' anyway, as she and the master are out of town."

"Oh. I hear it is to be a fancy affair."

"Indeed. Captain Norrington's promotion is an important event!"

_Promotion ceremony? _I mentally repeated. The maid in front of me filled her bucket and joined in the conversation. I let the bucket down the well and continued listening.

"Some don't approve of it. They say he's too young for the position. Why, he's not even married!"

"That much may be true, but rumor has it," the speaker raised her eyebrows for effect, "He fancies the Governor's daughter."

Two delighted gasps came from the other women. I smiled slightly at their enthusiasm before shaking my head, retrieving my full bucket, and heading with a weary sigh back down the road.

---

When I got back to the hut, Sam was in the main room speaking with two other gruff-looking men. I came in silently, hoping not to draw any attention to myself. I made my way to the kitchen, set the bucket on the simple old table, and lit the stove. It was almost time for the midday meal, so I figured I should start preparing it before Sam had to remind me. As I was cutting the vegetables I overheard parts of the men's conversation in the next room.

"...We've lost four in the past week in Port Royal alone. If we get anymore of them out on bail, we won't get any profit."

"Aye, from now on, we're going to have to leave them to those devils. We just can't afford it no more."

"All right. At least we've still got the experts. Speaking of which, how's Andy in Tortuga? Any news?"

"Aye. 'E says it's a good spot. Hardly any authority."

"Same as always, I thought so. Good, good. Round up the raw ones and ship 'em over. Andy'll take _good_ care of 'em."

I could hear a few satisfied grunts.

"Any news in town?"

"Nothing worth mentioning. Other than the ceremony, of course." _More about the ceremony... _

"Ceremony?"

"Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony. It'll be held at the fort the day after tomorrow."

"Is that so?" Sam said conspiringly. "We should send some o' the boys up there."

"We thought about that, but it's invitation only. They won't be able to get in too easily."

By that time the vegetables were cut, so I threw them into the bucket of water before pouring that into a pot on the stove. I wiped my hands on a thin rag nearby and unwrapped my long, light brown braid, combing my fingers through it carefully before re-braiding as I listened.

"But is it really even worth it? We could only pull off simple pick-pocketing at a thing like that, with so many soldiers around and all. To try anything bigger would be mad, Sam!"

"Maybe... but a little extra money can't hurt anyone. We'll just scrape up a few of the useless dogs and get 'em to work. If they get caught, they can rot for all I care. If they don't get caught, we'll be a little richer. No such thing as worthless money, boys."

I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"Lot!" Sam shouted. I _hated_ when he called me that. I went into the main room where the men were sitting and closed my eyes tightly for a moment before replying.

"Yes, sir?"

"Where's our bloody meal? Don't tell me you haven't made it yet."

"No, sir. I'm making it. It's almost ready."

"Can't you ever have anything ready on time?"

_Why don't you just go make it YOURSELF if you want it WHEN you want it? _I seethed in my head. "Apologies, sir."

"Bah! Just bring it 'ere."

"It's not ready."

"I said, bring it. Here." He looked into my eyes the way he always did when he demanded something I couldn't give him. As if he was saying, _I'm your master, and you know there's nothing you can do about it. Obey my command. Don't test me._

I let out a short sigh and returned to the kitchen; I could feel the eyes of the other two men on me as I left. Putting up with Sam's power-hungry games only got more and more ridiculous. I threw a pinch of salt in the soup and poured it into three bowls. I easily balanced the three bowls on my arm and carried a loaf of bread on a plate in my other hand. Slowly, so as not to spill or drop anything, I brought the food into the other room and set it on the table in front of them.

"This is it?" one of the men asked.

"I wasn't finished yet."

He grunted, and the three of them began drinking their soup. Sam suddenly plunked his bowl back down on the table.

"This is hardly even warm!"

"Like I said, it wasn't ready yet."

"'Wasn't ready yet,'" he mocked. He hurled the bowl across the room, splattering soup all over the wall and floor. I gasped, as the bowl had just barely missed hitting me in the head. I bit my lip to keep myself from screaming in frustration. We both knew it would turn out this way. "One more meal like this and it'll be a fortnight before you see your next."

_It's just_ _a bowl of soup! You have no idea how lucky you are to have any food at all, you ungrateful wretch! _Running those words through my mind didn't help any. Sam was always like this. I couldn't let it upset me every single time. That's what he wanted, he wanted me to snap. Usually that reassurance would comfort me, giving me the strength to keep collected, but not this time. I wanted to storm out of the room and slam some sort of door behind me, but common sense told me to stay put. "Apologies." I muttered.

"Apologies. Apologies, who?" I bit my lip, reaching the point of frustration exhaustion.

"Apologies, _sir._"

"'Sir' is right. Now clean that up. I'm going to the pub." He got up from his chair and motioned for the others to follow him. As soon as the door was shut and after I was sure they were a safe distance away, I kicked a leg of the table as hard as I could and screamed.

---

Sam didn't get back until many hours later, long after sunset. I was half-asleep in the main room when he came through the door. I prayed he wasn't hungry because I hadn't prepared anything and didn't intend on doing so.

"Get me some rum," he said, slamming the door behind him and sitting at the table. He looked incredibly drunk. I hesitated. "Bring me my rum!" He threw a candlestick towards me, but missed because of his lack of coordination. I regretfully went down into the cellar and brought up one of the smaller bottles of rum. I handed it to him carefully, not wanting to make any sudden movements. He popped off the cork and took a _long_ swig; the bottle didn't part from his mouth until he had finished it all.

I stepped back towards the kitchen--wanting to get out of his sight as soon as possible--when he forcefully threw the bottle at my feet, causing the aged glass to shatter to pieces. "ANOTHER! A-" he hiccupped, "-NOTHER!" He looked around for something else to throw, so I ran down into the cellar again, grabbed a larger bottle, and gave it to him. He popped open that bottle and began to drink. I backed out of the room as quietly as I could, momentarily forgetting about the shattered glass on the floor. A small shard pierced my bare foot, sending me tumbling to the floor with a pained yelp. Sam winced at my sudden cry and dropped the rum as he stood from the table. I sat, terrified, as he tromped towards me. "QUIET!" he shouted, pulling me up by my arm. My heart raced in fear at how unbelievably tight his grip was, even when drunk.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," I stuttered. Suddenly, with one swift movement, he punched me in the jaw with a half-clenched fist. Though blindly led, the impact still brought incredible pain. My vision was blurred for a minute as he threw me back to the ground, forcing my hand onto another piece of glass. I barely winced and tried to crawl away, but he grabbed me again, dragging me by the arm across the wooden floor to a door in the back of the hut. He threw me out into the alleyway and slammed it shut. I leaned up against the wall and removed the piece of glass from my foot, tears beginning to burn under my eyelids. Then I shakily ripped off the fraying trim of my apron and wrapped it around the wound. My hand was all right, it just stung a little, but my jaw was really beginning to hurt. Bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, I looked up at the dark sky that was visible between the roof of the hut and the one behind us, behind the tall clay wall I had my back to. It was so dark I could barely distinguish the sky from the roofs of the huts, but a few swirling clouds marked its existance.

A sob forced itself out of my throat, and the next thing I knew, I was doing something I hadn't done in a long time.

I cried.


	3. Haunting Memories

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Two: **

I awoke early the next morning, my muscles aching from the uncomfortable position they were in all night. The sun had not yet risen but I knew it would in a matter of minutes. I hurriedly got up off the damp, dirty ground, which brought a slight dark fog over my vision from the sudden movement. A dull pain pounded in my injured foot, and my jaw felt very swollen; I didn't want to see how bad it was. I limped over to the back door and opened it slowly, its hinges squeaking as I stuck my head inside to see if Sam was around. I spotted him sitting in the main room, slumped over the table with a bottle in his hands, snoring into a small pool of spilled rum. His dark, medium-length hair was horribly matted and tousled, and it looked like he had only just recently fallen into this post-drunken sleep. The room looked almost exactly the same way it did the night before, with the exception of a few more empty rum bottles on the table. I closed my eyes tightly. It wasn't the first time he'd hit me or thrown me into the alley to sleep, but instead of the wary fear or outright rebellion I would usually feel the next morning, I felt nothing but a dull, weary ache.

I entered the hut quietly, obviously not wanting to wake Sam (though I doubted anything could wake him up at that moment), and went to the kitchen for the broom, being careful not to step on any pieces of glass on the way. I found it easily and swept up the pieces scattered all over the floor. As soon as that was done with, I collected all the empty rum bottles and brought them back down to the cellar so we could re-use them later. Before I knew it, the sun had risen, and hustle and bustle could be heard coming from the town. I snatched up one of the larger water buckets and made my way to the well.

As I limped down the familiar path to the well, my thoughts naturally strayed to the night before. It certainly wasn't unusual for him to hit me like that, but I didn't ever remember him hitting me while he was drunk. I didn't even remember him being drunk that often. And even if he _did_ get drunk, he would never get _that_ drunk. Something was amiss. The image of Sam dragging me across the floor flashed in my memory, along with others of the night in the alleyway. Then I felt slightly ashamed. After he threw me out, I broke down and cried, just letting helplessness take over. For so long, I'd brave these incidents, just letting them pass, but not this time.

_Yes, this _one_ time_, the more reasonable side of my mind retaliated to myself. _We can't all be strong all the time._ True, but it seemed all I had left was my dignity.

I shook my head, listening to the reasonable side. There was no use thinking about it any longer. There'd be more days like this, and I couldn't dwell on each of them.

When I got back, Sam was gone. More than partially relieved, I set the full bucket on the kitchen table and went to my closet down the hall. Closet, not bedroom. The hut had one extra bedroom (though half of it was used for storage), but of course, it was off-limits to "the girl." I opened the cracked door and tried to adjust my eyes to the darkness. My few possessions lay on the floor, looking like they had been forgotten: a stiff brown blanket, another smaller one bound together to serve as a pillow, a washbasin, a candle, and a small trunk. I kneeled by my trunk and removed the candle from the top to open it up. Inside was one extra outfit (in no better condition than the one I wore), a comb, some matches, another candle, a few coins I had saved up and hidden, and the blanket I wore when my mother gave me away to Emma Corley. It was the only thing I had to remind me of her, and every time I saw it, I had to fight the urge to hold it, brush it against my cheek, or gently smell it, trying to find any trace of the sweeter scents of childhood. Though it was a light comfort in that it brought pleasant memories, it also brought one very painful one. The night I found out what happened to my mother.

"_Darling, there's something I've been wanting to explain to you," Emma said, sitting on the edge of Charlotte's bed, "Because I think you have a right to know." A single candle flickered on the nightstand, and the light of the moon filtered in through the curtains, filling the child's bedchamber with a soft glow._

"_What is it, Emmy?" ten-year-old Charlotte asked curiously, clutching her little green blanket._

"_I know I've told you about your mother; about the night she blessed me with you," she touched the tip of the little girl's nose, who smiled gently in response. "About why she had no other choice, about everything. Sweetheart, there's something that I didn't want to tell you before, because I thought that you'd be too young to understand." She put her hand over one of Charlotte's as she took a weary breath. "After your mother left you with me, she and her husband--your father--were to take a ship, The Pilgrim, back to England. A friend was able to sneak them aboard, so they... well... they hoped for a better life. The Pilgrim set sail hardly a day after you came to me, but..." Emma's words left her when she came to this point._

_"Emmy? What's wrong? Go on," said Charlotte, her eyes full of fearful curiosity. Emma patted her hand._

_"A few days later, news reached Port Royal that The Pilgrim had sunk. Shot down by an enemy ship."_

_There was a moment of silence, then Charlotte whispered,_

_"So, my mother and father are... dead?"_

_"I'm afraid so, darling. I'm so sorry."_

_"Dead?"_

The scene remained too sharp and clear in my memory. At times I wasn't sure if I was glad I knew about what happened, or if I wished I never found out. Because I knew they were dead, I couldn't dream of one day being reunited with my parents again. And sometimes in the late hours, when everything else already weighed on my heart, the pain and hopelessness only felt worse. Every day since I found out, I'd tell myself everything would be all right anyway. That wasn't too hard to believe--while I was still with Emma--but ever since her death, it became harder and harder. I'd always remember one of Emma's favorite quotes: "Don't dwell on the past, but always look to the future." It was one of those often-repeated sayings that most people would only remember as a vague proverb, without really thinking about what the words meant and how they could follow the advice. But in my case, they could possibly mean more than that. For the longest time I repeated them in my head, but after a night like the one in the alley, it was too easy to wonder if I even had a real future.

I put the blanket away and took out my only other dress. It looked almost exactly like the one I wore, just a different color and slightly cleaner. I took off the one I was wearing and slipped on the clean one. Shutting the trunk, I returned the candle to its place and brought my dirty dress with me to Sam's room. The room was fairly small (still bigger than the other room in the hut), but a complete pig sty, as Sam didn't allow me to touch any of his possessions to clean things up. The only thing tidy in the room was the bed (the only thing I was allowed and forced to make neat), since I made it the day before and Sam hadn't slept in it since. A few papers were strewn over the floor, two or three empty rum bottles cluttered up the old table that served as a desk, and dirty clothes lay in a stinking pile near the washbasin that he rarely seemed to use. Holding my breath, hoping not to smell the disgusting pile, I gathered them up in my arms, along with my dress, and carried them to the kitchen. I piled them on the table next to the bucket of water and got out the washboard. Before I started washing, I leaned over to look at my reflection in the water bucket. An ugly, multi-hued bruise swelled on the left side of my jaw. I sighed and began the wash. The cold water stung the cut on the palm of my hand as I dunked one of Sam's shirts in it.

As I rubbed and scrubbed every article of clothing, a story that Emma told me as a young girl came to mind, one she'd told me as we did the wash together.

_"Come on, tell me another!" Charlotte pleaded, hanging up a freshly washed apron to dry._

_"I knew I shouldn't have filled your head with them stories," Emma teased as she scrubbed a dirty tan shirt, her greying blonde hair beginning to stick to her forehead from the heat. "Not good for your little head."_

_"Oh please, Emmy. Just one more. I promise I won't ask for any others today!" Emma smiled and shook her head. Charlotte often used that promise, but she kept it, so her guardian gave in to her request._

_"All right. Who would you like to hear about?"_

_"Captain Jack Sparrow! A really good one. How is he now?"_

_"Oh," Emma said slowly, encouraging the girl. "You haven't heard?"_

_"What happened?"_

_"You haven't? Why, where have you been, child?"_

_Charlotte rolled her eyes but pressed her to go on._

_"All right, all right. Well, you know his first mate?"_

_"Barbossa?"_

_"Aye. Turns out, there was a mutiny between the two. 'Twas a fight over their plunder, they say. Before you know it, one thing led to another, and Captain Jack was marooned by his own crew!"_

_"Oh, no!"_

_"Oh yes! Now, Jack, of course, had done nothing wrong, you see. It was all Barbossa's doing, the greedy soul wanted more than his worth, more than anybody else, even the Captain. Anyways, Jack was marooned and left to die on a little tiny island in the Caribbean, with naught but the clothes on his back and a pistol with a single shot."_

_"But how did he get off the island? He did get off, didn't he?"_

_"Now you're getting ahead of me! Aye, he got off the island. But not before he'd gone mad with the fiery heat of the sun, beating down on him as he trudged along in the sand. But Jack's a smart man, you know. He wasn't going to give out to that island without a fight."_

_"Of course not!" Charlotte squeaked._

_"So Captain Jack wade into the shallows of the beach and stood there for three days and three nights. All those sea creatures got used to his presence after so long, you see, so on the third day, he roped himself a couple of sea turtles, tied them together and made a raft."_

_"Really?" Charlotte paused for a long moment, looking towards the ground seriously as she hung another piece of clothing on the line. "What did he use for rope?"_

I giggled, which was another thing I hadn't done in a while. Emma was never able to give me the answer to that. I gathered the wet clothes in my arms and carried them out to the alley, and with a little smile hung them up on the line to dry. _What I'd do for a good pirate story right now_. I wondered where Captain Jack Sparrow was at that very moment. Was he still alive? Still sailing the beautiful Caribbean? I hadn't heard any news about him lately.

Whenever Sam and his men had one of their meetings in the main room, I'd almost always listen in, unable to help myself. (Besides, it wasn't as if I had anything else interesting to do.) They'd nearly always mention something about one pirate or another, seeing as how Sam was once a pirate himself and liked to keep up with the news at sea. In that way I'd find out which pirates were hung, killed, marooned and such. Listening to these bits and pieces of news fed the curiosity I had about spending most of one's life at sea, a curiosity that had especially increased over the past few months. It seemed so... free. And exciting. Being let out of the godforsaken hut and never having to work for Sam again would be wonderful in itself, but to be able to go anywhere, whenever, exploring every inch of the Caribbean, would be paradise. Well... at least in the way I pictured it.

Sam came back at around noon, soon after I'd finished cooking the meal. Oddly, he was alone. He'd usually have at least one of his filthy old henchmen join him.

"Bring me some food, Lot," he called from the main room as he sat at the table.

"Yes, sir." I mumbled, picking up two plates. One I filled with re-cooked slices of the ham one of Sam's partners brought over earlier (stolen, of course), the other with a few slices of toasted bread. I brought it out to the room and set it on the table in front of him. He hesitated for a moment, just staring at me, looking me over. His gaze was thoughtful, not dark and angry as usual.

"Something the matter... sir?" I asked, not knowing what to expect.

"You _might_ be of some use_..._"he mumbled to himself. He continued looking me over.

"Pardon?"

He finally looked me in the eye. "Ye've heard of that ceremony, aye?" I nodded hesitantly. "Seeing as how money's sparing nowadays..." I tilted my head a little, finally understanding. _That's why he went out and got drunk. Trying to drink his bad luck away. _"...I thought I'd send some of the boys on up there tomorrow. Problem is, invitation only. But," he took a piece of paper out of his front shirt pocket, "one of them useless dogs managed to find one this morning while he was a' pick-pocketing."

I nodded again. _But what does this have to do with me?_

"'Nother problem, though. 'Tis for a '_Miss _Carrington'. Now, I can't send one of them boys up there to impersonate this 'Miss Carrington', now can I?"

"I suppose not." I answered. Catching Sam raise his eyebrow, I added, "Sir."

"So, I've decided to send you to the ceremony."

"I... beg your pardon?" I asked, more than a little surprised. Sometimes Sam sent me out on little pick-pocketing jobs with his "boys" when I was younger (and had me do a few similar tasks when I got older) in a poor attempt to turn me into a criminal, but he hadn't told me to do anything of the sort for quite a few months. And he certainly never had me go anywhere so... big. So fancy. He'd usually just send me up the street or to the town square.

"You're going to the ceremony," he grunted. Just as I was about to ask if I was to go by myself, he added, "WITH George."

"How is he supposed to get in if you only have one invitation?" I asked as more of a statement than a question. I was still too surprised to remember to add a 'sir.'

"Because _you_ are going to bring him as your guest. No more questions! Your mission is to steal as much as you can, of anything. And do _not _get caught."

Those last words stuck. Out of the dozen or so times I ever had to steal anything for Sam, about three or four of those times, I got caught. One of _those_ times, I was actually sent to jail. And _every _time I got caught, I'd get a beating after being brought back to the hut by his henchmen. The punishment was enough to be avoided, but I had to admit it used to be a guilty pleasure making Sam furious. Besides, jail wasn't that horrible. It was very much the contrary. I wasn't as careful about not getting arrested as Sam would order me to be, but I tried to hide any evidence of that from him as I could.

So I nodded soberly. I hated stealing for him.

_Well, it's a fancy ceremony. Maybe it won't be too bad._


	4. The Ceremony

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Three:**

"'Ere. You're wearing it to the ceremony." Sam threw a poofy dress along with some other clothing into my arms. "Hurry up and put it on." He shoved me into my closet and shut the door. It was the day of the ceremony, and George and I were to leave soon. The two men (Sam and George) stood outside my closet door waiting for me to change into the dress. I unrolled the fluffy thing and held it out in front of me, mouth hung open at its beauty. Sam had stolen it, no doubt, so I would fit in with the other aristocrats sure to be there, but this dress was very fancy. As in, daughter-of-the-Governor fancy. He must have stolen it from the best seamstress in town! Its base color was a creamy white and tiny dark red flowers curled and flourished all over the dress. To think I was going to be able to wear it the entire afternoon pleased me greatly, a simple pleasure that I hadn't felt in God knows how long. For a split second I wondered if I would be able to keep it. Then I realized what a ridiculous thought _that_ was.

As I slipped on the first layer (the petticoat, which was as soft as silk), I heard Sam and George speaking in low voices outside my door.

"...'Miss Juliet Carrington' isn't to be out of your sight at any time under _any_ circumstances," said Sam.

"What if she gets caught? What if we both get caught? Not that I think _I_ will get caught, but-" George didn't finish his sentence.

"Hm. Well, if she gets caught, you're not to 'elp her. You escape, and let her pay the price. It ought to teach her a lesson, being locked up for a little while."

I chuckled lightly under my breath. Teach me a lesson, indeed. The last time I got locked up in Port Royal's jail, ironically, I had never felt safer. I could sleep without worrying about being woken up with a kick in the ribs, I didn't have any work to do, and my food was prepared for me. The only thing bad about it was the beating I'd get when I returned to the hut after about a day or so of being there. But other than that, I honestly enjoyed prison. What was another beating?

"Aye, sir," George mumbled. George seemed to be one of the very few in Sam's clan that wasn't completely nasty. He could get gruff at times, which I understood--it definitely wasn't easy or ideal to work for Sam--but I could tell he didn't take any pride in what he did for a living. He was in his early twenties, with a muscular build and tan skin. I had only met him a few times, but it was enough to come to the conclusion that he wasn't a cruel soul at heart.

I carefully stepped into the dress itself, slid into the sleeves, and began tying up the back. As soon as I finished that (which took quite a while; I realized that anyone who could afford to buy such a dress could usually afford a handful of servants to help her put it on), I unwrapped my braid, picked up the hair ribbon that matched the dress, pulled my hair back into a bun and tied it off. I went over to my full washbasin, dipped a rag in the water, and cleaned my face and hands. I knew I'd never look as good as the others, but I wanted to do my best.

"Hurry up in there!" Sam banged on my shaky little door. I finished up.

About half an hour later, George and I were walking through the busy streets of town, halfway to the Fort. I looked up at the large stone building ahead of us, standing majestically on the edge of a cliff, looking over the ocean. I could faintly hear music playing from that direction. It was ridiculously hot that morning, despite the breeze coming off the ocean and despite it being only April. George seemed unaffected by it, even with a wig on his head, and continued walking at a brisk pace as the tails of his expensive stolen jacket waved behind him. I scurried after him, though my wounded foot was sore. I almost constantly adjusted the bag underneath my dress, the bag Sam told me to keep whatever we stole in. It blended underneath smoothly (it rested beneath the dress but on top of the petticoat), much to Sam's satisfaction, but I hadn't tied it very well around my waist. It felt like it would slide off over my hips and down my legs to the ground if I moved too much.

"Listen," George said over his shoulder. I jumped. "Sam's got no problem with you doing a bit of the work, robbing them and all, but I want you to leave all that to me. Your job is just to carry it all." I let out a small sigh and mentally thanked him. "All right?" he asked. I didn't expect him to say anything else.

"All right," I said breathlessly. I was trying to decide whether or not to ask him to slow down, but it looked like I didn't have to. His pace slowed a bit as he muttered, "Sorry."

"That's fine. Thank you," I said, putting a hand up to my aching stomach. It dawned on me that I hadn't eaten anything since the morning before. George gave me a questioning look, then said,

"How long have you been with him?"

I paused, surprised at his question and the fact he was speaking to me at all. "About six years." He gaped.

"_Six _years? How on earth did you manage?"

"Well, I haven't really had any other choice..." I trailed off, feeling a little uncomfortable about getting into that particular history, and also wondering why he wanted to know. His pace slowed even more until he was walking right beside me.

"How did you end up with him?"

I didn't quite know how to answer, but I did, being as brief as possible. "After my parents left me, I was taken in by a kind woman with no children. After she passed away, I was sold to him. I've worked for him ever since."

"My word..." he breathed. My eyebrows creased slightly in nervous curiosity.

"Why do you ask?"

"I was only curious," he replied defensively. "After all, we sort of have to do this together and I thought that I might as well know a little bit about you."

"Oh... it's just for an afternoon."

"Well, even so. If you don't want me to speak with you, you can just say so."

For a minute I was speechless. "I... suppose I don't mind," I said, averting my eyes to the dirt road ahead of my feet, "It's just that no one ever does speak with me unless they must."

"I can understand that. It's just that you strike me as someone with a lot to say and I was only trying to make conversation."

For a minute I wondered about his strange reply, but didn't answer and just continued walking. He made no further comment, so I took advantage of the silence and soaked in what was happening around us. I had rarely been in this part of Port Royal, but I liked it. If you walked down the street from west to east (as we were doing), the docks were to your left, sitting stagnantly on the shore. The waves lapped up and down the beach, looking very inviting for a hot, sweating girl like myself. I spotted a few small slave children playing in the sand. Some young men were loading boxes of plantains onto a large boat. Seagulls flew and spun above the shore, fighting over pieces of bread a woman was throwing to them. It all seemed so natural and peaceful.

All too soon we reached the entrance to the Fort. Four guards stood outside the doorway leading to the courtyard, the place where the ceremony was going to take place, or so I guessed. George and I put on smiles for our masquerade as we approached the guard checking invitations.

"Invitation, please," he said. I handed the delicate piece of paper over, and he nodded towards George. "Who's he?"

George was about to say something but I answered, "He is my guest. Did it not say guests were welcome?" My gaze shifted from the soldier's to the invitation now in his hands, hoping he couldn't see my nervousness.

"It's not a problem, Miss..." he glanced down at the invitation, "Carrington. Enjoy the ceremony." He smiled. I returned it with a soft tilt of my head as George and I entered. The courtyard was fairly crowded, but with soldiers, not guests. There were a few, maybe two or three dozen, but not as many I thought there would be. Still, I felt many eyes on me as George casually took my arm and whispered,

"Ignore them, and they will ignore you. The last thing we need is attention. Follow my lead, and, if you must, refer to me as Matthew White. Don't speak unless spoken to, and act natural, as if you're having a good time." I showed him I understood with a nod, and put on a small smile, tilting my head to those who looked me directly in the eye. It came naturally, and to my surprise, I even got a few smiles in return. Even though I felt out of place, I think I managed to blend right in.

It wasn't long before someone announced that the ceremony was about to begin, and everyone took their places quickly and orderly. All of the lower-ranked sailors in blue uniforms made eight rows on each side of the courtyard, leaving a sort of pathway down the middle leading to a platform. On the platform stood the higher-ranked sailors and soldiers, like Captains, Lieutenants, and such, and the Governor of Port Royal, Governor Swann. George, myself, and the other guests stood on two lower platforms to the side of the main one. I studied the faces of the other guests around me as we waited. The women (including myself) stood in the front rows and the men near the back. Most of the women there were probably in their forties, except for two or three women I saw that looked under twenty. One of which seemed very uncomfortable. I didn't blame her. Standing still in the blistering heat sent beads of sweat trickling down my back, making my skin itch. I twitched a little here and there, making sure no one paid attention. I didn't know why I cared so much; I didn't even know these people! Still, I wanted to act as proper as possible. It wasn't every day that I got to pretend I wasn't just a slave.

Fans fluttered and parasols twirled as the march began playing. Two long lines of soldiers in red uniforms came out of the entrance at the other end of the courtyard, marching in a synchronized fashion. As soon as the lines almost reached the platform, they stopped, turned, and split, once again making a clear path down the middle. Someone shouted, "Right about, face!" The two lines turned again, then the shouting person ordered, "Present arms!" Taking their rifles off their shoulders, they tilted them forward towards the middle of the path. A man in a very fancy blue uniform stood at the entrance, hands behind his back, and started walking down the cleared pathway. _Commodore Norrington_, I thought. He stepped up onto the middle of the platform, and Governor Swann handed him a sword. He took it, pointed it just below the sun (admiring how straight it was, I imagined, though I didn't know much about swords), and twirled it around in his hands. After that, he put it in its new scabbard, attached it to his waist, and the Governor read from a scroll the lawful proceedings.

The ceremony closed after about ten minutes, then the reception began. For some reason many more people were allowed in the Fort for that. They all prattled in their little groups scattered across the yard, servants walked around offering food and drink to the guests, and the musicians played slow, peaceful music on their instruments. Taking this as his cue, George ordered me to stay by the refreshment table as he walked through the crowd. I obeyed, pretending to inspect the display of food. It all looked delicious, causing my stomach to ache even more. I reached for a small cake hesitantly. _I'm a guest... why not?_ That was all the approval I needed, so I snatched it up and popped it into my mouth hungrily. An older woman nearby looked at me with disapproving eyes. I chuckled nervously, wiping the side of my mouth with my thumb. She shook her head and walked off. Since my stomach growled for more, I picked up a little plate and placed samples onto it of almost everything on the table.

When I had eaten to my stomach's content, I waited impatiently for George to return. I couldn't find him anywhere in the crowd, and that made me nervous. Though pretending to be rich and having the chance to eat gourmet food was wonderful, I was ready to leave. The dress pinched and clung to me, my sweat acting like glue. It was very uncomfortable to say the least. "_Blasted thing_," I mumbled, trying to adjust it. The "simple pleasure" I thought it would be became much more annoying than I could first imagine. I saw an abandoned fan sitting on the table, so I borrowed it, simply getting too dizzy from the heat to worry about its owner discovering me. I furiously fanned myself while waiting for George.

I didn't have to wait much longer before he returned. He brought back one gold pocket watch, six tiny bags of shillings, a ring, a string of pearls, and two brooches. How he managed to get all of that without anyone noticing, I had no idea, and I didn't ask. We walked to one of the balconies that looked over the sea, away from the crowd, and he gave me the items two at a time while standing guard as I slipped them into the bag. I was able to get it all in without anyone noticing, but now the bag was just barely hanging around my waist. Thankfully, George said that we could leave, so we made our way towards the main entrance and exit of the Fort. I clenched my teeth as we approached the four soldiers guarding the doorway. My anxiousness grew as I felt the bag shift underneath my dress. It was slipping, but I couldn't adjust it now. Either George got too nervous and quickly strode out the doorway, or he sensed what was happening and decided to make a break for it. When he didn't stop to wait for me, I quickened my pace, too, making both our worries come true.

Before I could do anything about it, the bag slid off my waist and landed on the ground by my feet, spilling all its contents. All four pairs of the soldier's eyes darted to the precious valuables making a clinking sound on the stone floor as they tumbled out of the bag. I gasped and dashed for the exit. But as I knew they would, they stopped me. Two strong arms grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back.

I had been caught again.


	5. A Hero

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Four:**

"Have anyone to come claim you, Miss?"

I hesitated, as I had been doing after most of the questions asked. If I said no, would they keep me locked up longer? Did I want that? How long was Sam going to let me stay there, anyway?

"Miss?"

"Um... no." I supposed it didn't matter one way or another.

The old man nodded. "Twelve days." He scribbled my sentence on a ledger sitting on the table. Two men gently but firmly held on to my elbows, leading me through the door to the stairwell. I looked back at the head jailer, sitting at a desk that looked about as old as the man himself (and the desk seemed _very_ old), looking over the ledger and marking names and dates off. I sighed quietly, for some reason wondering what Emma would have thought if she knew what kind of life I'd been forced to lead. The thought made my chest ache, so I put it out of my head and just concentrated on making it down the familiar stone steps to the prison cells. _At least the interrogation's through._ I didn't ever remember being asked so many questions! Before, all they wanted was my offense, name, and age. This time the jailer went so far as to ask why I stole those things (the things I didn't actually steal myself; it took me a minute to come up with a pitiful explanation), where I lived (I lied about that, too), and if any family members were going to bail me out. I just wanted to get thrown behind the bars and allowed any peace they could give.

When we got to the bottom of the stairs I was disappointed to find other prisoners there. I was hoping I could be alone. They shifted their eyes towards me, as did a mutt of a dog sitting in a corner outside the cells. There were only three cells on this level, (there was another level below us that had about a dozen cells, but there never was _that_ much crime being committed in the settlement, so they were hardly ever used), and the cell in the middle was full of four pitiful men, looking like they had been there for quite a while. Much longer than I was going to stay, at least. The two silent soldiers at my sides led me over to an empty cell on the far left, the first cell. While one of them held onto me, the other went over to the guard sitting at a desk near the bottom of the steps, retrieved the keys, unlocked my door, and let me walk in.

"O' course, treat the _maiden _with respect!" grumbled one of the prisoners in the neighboring cell. The soldiers both shot harsh looks at him, making him shake his head and walk away from the bars. I sighed, hoping that I wouldn't have to deal with him or the others later on.

The soldiers shut and locked my cell, returned the keys to the guard, and went up the stairs, leaving me, the other prisoners, and the guard alone in silence. That complete silence lasted for a few minutes as everyone else in the room just stared at me. Trying to ignore them, I sat on a ledge by the window, brought my knees to my chest, and rested my head on them. I closed my eyes in hopes that it'd make the others look away, and took a deep breath, inhaling the dense, warm air, relaxing as many muscles in my body as I could. My stomach was full, I was comfortable enough (if I ignored the itchy dress), and the cell offered the safety I craved. I knew it wouldn't be for long, so I tried to enjoy it while I could.

My eyes remained shut as I tried to block out everything around me. My thoughts began to wander, thinking about the faces I saw at the ceremony, wondering what their lives were like, and whether or not they felt happy. Wondering about what was going on in the other places of the world. There was so much out there, so much I was missing while forced to remain trapped in a small corner of it all. So much of the world to see, so many places to go, so many people to meet. Could I be a part of it, ever? And there was love... I groaned inwardly for allowing myself to think about that again. I tried to ignore it, but of course, with love as powerful as it is, it kept forcing itself into my thoughts and heart, making it ache. Ever since I'd been sold, life obviously hadn't been very good to me afterwards. I was alone. I had no one to turn to, no one to confide in, no one to comfort me, and no one to turn to me for the same things. The loneliness pushed and pulled at my heart, wearing it out. The desire to feel someone's arms around me and to hear a voice tell me everything was going to be all right became stronger with every tug and pull. It didn't even have to be a romantic sort of love, not at first... just a friend. Somebody who cared about me.

As usual after thinking these kinds of thoughts, my brain tired and slowed, and I fell into a doze, just barely conscious of what was going on around me. A half-dream formed slowly in my imagination, vivid despite my not being completely asleep. I was lying on a beach. The sun was bright, casting a warm glow onto my skin, and the sweet-scented breeze blew wisps of my free hair across my face. The sand felt soft and comforting, and I could feel the cool waves of the sea lap up the shore to my toes, the water leaving sparkling drops where it had made contact with my skin. I couldn't remember anything from real life--this _was_ real life, and it was beautiful. The world was peaceful but exciting, full of purpose, and I had the freedom to find my place in it.

That was why I loved that cell. I may have been physically confined, but my mind was free to wander and dream. The little dream I was lucky enough to have was blown away with the noise of a door opening. I opened my eyes, mind screaming for the bliss that had been snatched away, and groggily looked towards the stone steps as I expected someone to come down. More than one pair of footsteps headed down the stairs, and a steady _thump, thump, thump_, joined them as whoever they were continued down. The dog that had remained so silent this whole time let out a little yelp, suddenly alert to his surroundings. A few moments later three soldiers came into sight, dragging a man down the stairs feet first, letting his head hit each step to make the thumping sound I heard. He was unconscious, which I was thankful for (if he was awake, the continuous knocks to his head would surely have been painful), and limp as he was being dragged down. They all stopped at the bottom of the stairs, giving me a clear view of everyone.

The breath caught in my throat. When I was still with Emma, I'd engraved the appearance of a sketch I saw on a particular "wanted" notice into my memory, and though that was years ago, the image was still clear, now making my insides jump with excitement as I took in the details of the new prisoner's face.

The guard at the desk stood from his chair and looked at him curiously, then asked the others, "Who is he?" The soldiers set the man down, straightening up a bit, stretching out their backs. One of them answered,

"Pirate; Jack Sparrow."

I gasped quietly. It _was_ him! My childhood hero was right here in front of me! Any respectable folk would scold me for calling him a hero, but that was how I saw him. I looked forward to hearing the stories and tales about him, his newest adventures, his latest escapes, and I admired him. He brought joy to me as a youngster. What else could I call him? But what had he done? What was he doing here? I strained to listen to the rest of the conversation, trying to block out the sound of the prisoners next to me who were busy muttering to themselves.

The guard gave a satisfied chuckle as he looked disdainfully at the pirate on the ground. "How was he caught?"

"Well, apparently, at the reception being held up at the Fort this afternoon, the Governor's daughter fell off the Fort's terrace and into the ocean," said one. I raised my eyebrows while picturing the odd scene. "Fainted, I hear. All I know is, Sparrow here kept her from drowning."

I smiled. Pirates weren't all hearts of stone... at least this one wasn't.

"To make a long story short," said another, who was holding onto what I guessed were the Captain's pistol, belt, and compass, "After the authorities came and discovered 'im, he ran off, but we trapped him at the Blacksmith's shop in town." While listening to this, my eyes studied the Captain's face. He definitely looked like a pirate, but he wasn't an ugly one. He stirred as if detecting my stare, and the three soldiers immediately grabbed him again.

"Anyways, we'll need a cell for him, of course," said the soldier holding Captain Jack's feet. The guard nodded, handed him the ring of keys, and motioned over to the third cell, two cells down from mine. Two of the men dragged him across the dirty ground while the third unlocked and opened the cell. They quickly pulled him in and removed their hands from him as soon as he was inside, as if he was going to suddenly spring back to consciousness the moment they released him from their grip. One of them tossed Jack's tri-corner hat into the cell before leaving briskly, and I frowned slightly, still deep in thought while watching as the cell was shut and locked. Jack's pistol, belt, and compass were hung up on a peg in the wall next to the desk, the keys were returned, and they left. There was another silence, this time with everyone staring at Jack. He lied stretched out on the straw-covered floor, the sunlight from the cell's barred window shining through and onto his face. I hoped desperately that he would wake up soon.

He didn't. Four dreary hours passed, and he still hadn't woken up. I'd tried to take a nap numerous times, but it was useless. I spent the afternoon sitting on my ledge; thinking, as there was not that much more to do. I occasionally stood up on the ledge and looked out the cell's window, and the guard let all us conscious prisoners out one at a time to answer the call of nature (the men used the room for prisoners, while I was escorted upstairs to a real washroom), but that was about it. Eventually another soldier came down the stairs carrying two wooden plates. One had four pieces of old-looking, hardly edible bread on it, and the other had better looking bread along with an apple. He walked past cell number two as all four of its inhabitants reached through the bars for the food, but stopped in front of my cell. He bid me to come over, so I did, and offered the apple to me through the bars, followed by the better looking piece of bread. I thanked him quietly and returned to my seat. Then he gave my neighbors the less-than-delectable looking bread. I watched as he wrinkled his nose while giving one piece to each grimy hand reaching out of the cell. I began to feel guilty about my own food despite the fact my cell-mates were in jail for a reason.

Just as the soldier was about to head back up the steps with the empty plates, I stopped him.

"Sir?" He stopped and looked to me patiently. "What of the other?"

"What other?" he replied. I motioned over to Jack's cell.

"The other prisoner. The pirate."

"Um..." he paused, surprised at my question. "He's unconscious, miss."

"Will he get something when he wakes up?"

He chuckled, as did the guard. "Sorry. I have orders." He continued up the steps. I sighed in defeat. I set my apple and bread slice aside, since I was still satisfied from what I had eaten at the ceremony, and decided to save it for later. Maybe for Jack if he woke up. I watched as the others gobbled up their own portions in quick but tiny bites. One of the men looked back at me and snarled,

"I suppose you're not very familiar with starvation, are ye now?"

I kept quiet, knowing my answer wouldn't make any difference.

About half an hour later a bell rang from upstairs, and the stiff guard released a puff of breath while removing his feet from their propped position on the desk. A small smirk appeared on his face as he took the keys from his pocket, tossed them to the dog in the corner (who eagerly snatched them up in his mouth), and rushed up the stairs. A few seconds passed before one of the prisoners said, "Finally!" He pulled a bone out of his jacket and stuck it outside the cell through the bars, whistling to the dog. The other three soon joined him, whistling and calling "Here, doggy! Come here, boy!" I smiled blankly then heard a small grunt come from the third cell. My gaze dashed over to see Jack _finally_ awaking. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head, only a hint of pain crossing his face. He sighed and dropped his hand to his lap, then looked around.

"Not much for looks, but it'll 'ave to do," he said, standing up slowly and with much effort. I tilted my head a little in curiosity. He searched the cell for a moment before he found what he was looking for: his tri-corner hat sitting upside-down in the corner of the cell. With a few wavy steps, he walked over, picked it up, and placed it proudly on his head. Once again he looked around briefly with a slow swing of his head. He sauntered to the ledge by his cell window, sat down, leaned up against the wall, and pulled the hat over his eyes a little. _Sleeping? He's been asleep for almost five hours! _I thought, observing him carefully through the bars of my cell. Then I remembered the food I had saved. _He must be hungry. _But how could I get it to him? I took the apple from my ledge and fiddled with it in my hands, then glanced at one of my neighbors. He easily noticed and I could almost see his mouth start to water. I bit my lip and picked up the bread, too. _It's my only option. _Apple and bread in hand, I went to the wall of bars that divided our two cells. The man came forward and stared at the food in my arms. I leaned close to the bars and said in a whisper, so the others might not notice,

"_Please, if you could give this to that man over there..._" I motioned to Jack with the apple, "_I'll give you my bread._"

He paused and gazed at me curiously, then nodded as if finally understanding what I'd said. I hesitated before giving him the apple and just prayed he wouldn't take it for himself. A ripe, juicy apple would probably look much more appetizing to him than a bland piece of baked wheat. To my relief, he went over to the wall of bars that separated the second and third cells and stuck the apple out of one of the gaps. By that time the rest of his cell-mates saw it and tried reaching for it, but thankfully, his arm was longer than any of theirs.

"You," he grunted, trying to push away from the others on his side of the bars. Jack turned his head and cocked an eyebrow. "From the lass over there." He motioned to me with a toss of his head before dropping the delivery into its destination. I smiled softly but nervously as Jack's eyes met mine. When he looked as if he was about to refuse, I called,

"Please, I've already eaten. No Captain deserves to starve."

Impressed, probably because I was the only one who had recognized him as _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, he smiled and took the bright green fruit from the floor beside him.

"Thank you, love," he said, raising the apple in a salute to me.

"You're welcome, Captain," I said with a tilt of my head, sighing quietly in relief. (Relief from what, I didn't really know.) After rubbing it on his jacket, he took a big bite.

"Our deal?" asked the man who faithfully completed the task. The other three looked at him, puzzled, then at me. I nodded and gave him the bread. Of course, that caused the others to get more than a bit jealous of their cell-mate, and he received a few dirty looks. He obviously didn't care; at least he got what he wanted. I went back to my ledge contentedly and watched Jack eat. I didn't have anything better to do, and I certainly didn't mind. He must have felt a pair of eyes on him, for he paused in the middle of a bite and turned towards me. I quickly looked away, but I knew he saw me staring at him.

"What? Ye change your mind? I'm afraid it's a bit too late for that," he said. I smiled, just looking down and shaking my head. There was a pause, then he asked, "What's a fetching girl like you doing here?"

"Theft," I answered with a slight shrug. "Stealing at the ceremony."

"Ah."

"I hear you... rescued the Governor's daughter?" I sucked my lip, not sure how he'd react to my question.

A look of thoughtful seriousness came over his face as if he was just reminded of something important. He didn't answer, so I didn't ask him any more questions.

Later that evening I tried to get to sleep, as did Jack, but the continuous whistling and calling of our neighbors kept us awake. Well, I knew it kept me awake. I breathed out wearily, getting into a different position on the ledge. Their fate was very most likely not a pleasant one, and I could understand their perseverance in trying to escape, but my sleepiness was making it difficult to keep understanding. I was about to groan very quietly in aggravation before Jack stated,

"You can keep doing that forever, but that dog is _never _going to move."

"Aye," I readily agreed. Hearing Jack made it easier for me to try to stay calm.

"Oh excuse us for not wanting to resign ourselves to the gallows just yet," one said coldly. He continued calling to the dog. I wearily let my chin rest on my knees while Jack simply smiled and put his hat back over his eyes. Adapting his cool attitude was becoming easier, or I was just getting too tired to care anymore. I had my eyes closed for about a minute until I thought I heard a faint _boom_ in the distance...


	6. My Hero

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Five:**

Apparently, it wasn't just my imagination.

"I know those guns!" Jack said eagerly as he stood on his ledge. The other four men paused in the middle of their pleading with the dog, who still hadn't moved an inch, and listened. "It's the _Pearl_," whispered Jack as he stared out the window. My eyes went wide, the heaviness of my eyelids forgotten. _The Black Pearl _was here? But... why wasn't Jack sailing it? I quickly tried to remember any news I might have picked up before about Jack losing his ship. I couldn't remember anything... unless... _unless Jack never got his ship back after being marooned on that island years ago._ That was the only answer I could come up with. That meant Barbossa was attacking the port with Jack's ship! I immediately lept up on my ledge and looked out the window, too.

"_The Black Pearl_?" said one of my neighbors with a hint of fear in his voice. "I've heard stories. She's been preying on ships and settlements for near ten years. Never leaves any survivors."

Jack turned away from his window. "No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?"

I would have laughed at this detail if I wasn't so busy staring intently at the ship floating in the bay of Port Royal. I shivered. The ash-colored hull and tattered sails made its presence both ghostly and alluring... and I couldn't look away.

"She's beautiful," I tried to say, but it only came out as a whisper. Jack smiled a little while everyone else looked at me as if I'd suddenly turned into one of the attacking pirates.

Cannon balls suddenly started flying in every direction, racing to hit buildings along the coast without warning. Almost before I knew what was happening, I saw one soaring in our direction, threatening to hit the stone wall dividing myself and the world outside from each other. I yelped and jumped off my ledge into the corner, arms over my head and neck for protection. The ball did hit, but not my cell. It hit the second cell, blasting open a hole in the stone wall. I looked up, and through the dust I could make out the figures of the cell's inhabitants leaping out the hole.

"My sympathies, friends, you really have no manner of luck at all," said one just before abandoning us. I just sighed a bit breathlessly from the shock after the small explosion, not caring too much that _I _couldn't get out, (besides, I was probably much safer, what with the invading pirates and all), but more disappointed for Jack. He rested his head inbetween a small gap the hole had made when it blasted into his neighbor's cell.

"I'm sorry, Jack," I offered sincerely.

"Not your fault," he said, trying to brush it off. He shook his head, walking away from the corner of his cell and over to his door. I watched, feeling even more sorry for him as he reached through the bars, picked up the bone the former prisoners had left behind, and began calling to the dog. I sighed again and returned my head to its resting place on my knees, turning it so I could watch Jack. Much to my surprise, the dog actually inched closer to him after a few minutes, past my cell, keys dangling from its mouth.

"Come on, doggy," said Jack, smiling brightly and waving the bone around. As soon as the dog was _almost_ close enough, he added, "Come on you filthy, slimy, mangy cur!" A sudden noise coming from upstairs made me jump, and the dog scurried off in fear. "No, no, no, no, no I didn't mean it! No..." Jack whined, letting out an exasperated sigh. I froze, listening. There was the sound of a blade slicing something, perhaps skin (which made me shudder), a muffled gasp, then the body of a soldier came tumbling down the stairs. I clung to the barred wall beside me as two dirty, ugly-looking pirates came down the stairs.

"This ain't the armory!" shouted one as the other sheathed his sword. Despite being safe inside the cell, my heart pounded in both shock and fear.

"Well, well, look what we have 'ere, Twigg," said the other with darker skin. He neared Jack's cell, studying him with a mocking smirk. "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow." He spat at Jack as the Captain just looked at him ruefully. They knew him? _Well... they're all pirates. Maybe they even worked for Jack before Barbossa took over._

"Last I saw you, you were all alone on a god-forsaken island, shrinking into the distance," the one whom I assumed was Twigg said, as the other snorted a few times. "His fortunes haven't improved much."

"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen," Jack said smoothly. "The deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers, and mutineers." Twigg's partner grunted and stuck his hand through the door, snatching Jack by the neck. I jumped at the sudden movement, and when I saw his arm in the moonlight, I screamed. The parts of his arm exposed to the light of the moon turned into bone, and his clothing to rags. My scream actually caused the three men to jump as well, and all their heads turned towards me. I clapped a hand over my mouth.

"Aw. Is somebody frightened?" Twigg asked, nearing my cell slowly. I inched away from the door that separated us, still clinging to the wall at my side. I took a quick glance towards the others to see Jack still trapped, moving his lips with nearly inaudible words (inaudible from where I was, at least), and the pirate saying through gritted teeth, "You know nothing of hell." As he jerked his hand away from Jack's neck, I jerked my head back towards Twigg.

"Never really believe those ghost stories you hear, eh?" he said. He gave me a narrow-eyed grin before thrusting his arm through the bars so it fell under the moonlight. I almost shrieked again, seeing his hand turn to bone just like the other's did. Twigg seemed to be enjoying it, like a child poking an animal with a stick as it cowers, so he tried moving his arm towards me as I backed away. He chuckled as I hit the corner of my cell, but then the other pirate grunted and motioned for him to get going. With one quick shrug he shook off his evilly playful face, removed his arm from the bars and followed his partner up the stairs, leaving Jack and I alone.

"Captain?" I croaked, pulling myself to a stand. "How... Did that...?" He looked up from the bone he had been studying intently, then tilted his head to the side to rest it on the door of the cell.

"You're not going daft or anythin'. No worries." I blinked.

"What... what was... he... talking about?" My face tingled with embarassment as I realized the explanation would probably take a great deal of time, and I doubted he'd want to spend that much time explaining to an anonymous girl in jail.

Instead, he stuck his arms through the wall of bars dividing his cell and the second, and said,

"Come 'ere."

I crossed my cell to the wall of bars closest to him and listened.

"Now I'm just curious, but how come I get the feeling that a refined young lady such as yerself seems to know more about my person than you're telling, and it's more than _your_ person should know?"

I shrugged sheepishly. "I'm not... refined. I'm an orphan and slave. When I was little, my guardian told me many stories about you, and _The Black Pearl_, and lots about other pirates, too. Her husband was a pirate, so..." I trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

"Ah. Just curious." He eyed me in a way that certainly suggested more than just curiosity. "How much do you _really_ know?"

Where to start? "Maybe a bit more than common knowledge?" I offered, unsure how to answer. I dodged his gaze before adding, "You were one of my heroes when I was little." He smiled crookedly but proudly, revealing a few gold teeth I didn't notice before.

"Hmm... I s'pose I can tell you about this then. But I've got to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Can you keep this to yourself?"

"Of course," I almost whispered. I didn't have anyone to share anything with. "What's going on?"

---

My jaw dropped. "That's impossible!"

"Believe what ye will," he said with a mock shrug. He raised his pointer finger. "But nothing's impossible, love. Improbable, perhaps, but never impossible."

I sunk from my kneeling position to sit on my heels, dumbfounded.

"Let me make sure I'm understanding," I said slowly, "Barbossa's stolen yer ship, yer-" I shook my head a little; listening to Jack for so long had me talking like him. "Your crew betrayed you, they stole a cursed treasure, thus cursing themselves, and now they're not living, but not dead?" He tilted his head as if bowing. There was a long silence full of both of us studying the straw on the floor.

"Well!" he said cheerfully, "That was a pleasent bedtime story, aye?" He picked up the old bone again and examined the door.

"Very." I smiled a little, the shock somewhat wearing off. "Thank you for telling me."

Jack was too occupied to say anything else. After snapping the bone in half, he stuck a piece inside the lock of his door and began jiggling it, trying to pick the lock. I rested my head on my knees, eyelids beginning to droop. How late was it? My eyes seemed to seal themselves shut and I decided to get some sleep.

"Goodnight, Captain."

"Yeah."

"My name is Charlotte, by the way."

"Of course."

---

I awoke groggily the next morning, wincing as the sunshine hit me in the eyes. I put a hand between myself and the window to block out the warm light and slowly sat up. My shoulder ached from lying on it awkwardly during the night, so I rubbed it gingerly while blinking away the blurriness of my sight. The back of my now-filthy dress was slightly damp with sweat. Could it possibly get any more uncomfortable? I turned my head towards where Jack had been last night and found him, bone still in the lock, hand still on the bone, arms still through the door, but asleep. His mouth hung open slightly and I could just barely hear him breathing. I bit back an amused, awed smile. I still couldn't believe I was two cells away from the real Captain Jack Sparrow, famous for his antics, let alone that I'd be seeing him in such an unguarded way. Keeping his ego in mind, I picked up a small rock from the explosion the night before and threw it against my door with a sharp _clang_, then flopped back onto the straw-covered floor, pretending to be asleep. Like I hoped, Jack woke up with a jolt and shook his head. Also blinking hard a few times, he shook his head more vigorously before continuing his work on the lock. I feigned a yawn and a stretch.

"Good morning," I offered, sitting up for the second time. He just nodded, completely absorbed in his work again. I watched for a few moments before wincing. Sam might be bailing me out today. _Maybe because of the raid last night, he won't have time to come. _I rubbed my forehead.

Just then there was the familiar noise of a door opening upstairs. The sound was violent, and the quick patter of footsteps followed soon after. I looked quickly to Jack, who was no longer picking the lock but lying on his back on the ground, doing exactly what I did moments before. A young man raced down the stairs and up to Jack's cell, saying,

"You! Sparrow!"

He had dark, shoulder-length hair that was pulled back with a strip of cloth, dark (but little) facial hair on his chin and above his lip, and medium skin. He was dressed like an average villager, maybe a man of trade, but his outfit was very tousled and wrinkled, perhaps from all the commotion the night before. He tossed a quick look in my direction but otherwise ignored me.

"Aye?" replied Jack, lifting his head up.

"You are familiar with the ship, _The Black Pearl?_" Jack rested his head again.

"I've heard of it."

"Where does it make berth?" asked the man, his voice eager and breathing ragged, probably from running for a while. I pondered the obvious question. Why was he firing all these questions at Jack? Were he a soldier, I would have imagined him to be interrogating Jack for information on the pirates who'd attacked Port Royal, probably in hopes of going after them. But he didn't look like a soldier, and his questions seemed too unceremonious for someone like that.

"Where does it make berth?" repeated Jack, raising his head again. "Have you not heard the stories?" The young man gave Jack a questioning yet cautious look. _Suppose not._ "_Captain_ Barbossa," Jack spoke with a little sarcasm, "and his crew of miscreants, sail from the dreaded Isla De Muerta. It is an island that cannot be found-" I joined him quietly when he said, "-_except _by those who already know where it is." I cleared my throat awkwardly when both pairs of eyes drifted over to me, and quickly dropped my gaze as the other two continued their conversation.

"The ship is real enough," said the stranger, "therefore its anchorage must be a real place, where _is_ it?"

"Why ask me?" Jack examined his fingernails. The other gave an exasperated sigh.

"Because you're a pirate."

"And you want to turn pirate yourself, is that it?" The other gripped the bars of the door suddenly and said through gritted teeth,

"_Never._" There was a short pause in which I looked back and forth between Jack and the other man, when he said with another sigh, "They took Miss Swann."

_The Governor's daughter?_

"Oh, so it _is_ that you've found a girl!" said Jack, sitting up once again. By now I was completely confused. "Well if you plan to brave all, hasten to her rescue, and so win the fair lady's heart... you'll have to do it alone, mate." He smiled crookedly. "I see no profit in it for me."

"I can get you out of here," the other countered quickly.

"The key's gone," I offered quietly.

"I helped build these cells," he replied, looking them over with some pride. "With the right leverage, and proper application of strength-" he picked up a nearby bench and stuck two of its legs in Jack's door, "-The door will lift free." My mind started racing.

_Should I ask him to let me out?_

_Even if he agrees, Sam will catch me sooner or later,_ the other part of my mind said.

_So I'll get a beating. But how often will I get a chance like this?_

_How often will Sam tolerate this? The next time he catches me might be the last._

"What's your name?" Jack's voice broke my worried thoughts.

"Will Turner."

"Ah. That would be short for William, I imagine. Good, strong name. No doubt named for yer father, eh?" Jack asked with a tiny grin. _Will Turner... William Turner..._ where had I heard that name before? Maybe a long time ago...

"Yes..." Mr. Turner replied cautiously.

"Uh-huh." Another pause. "Well Mr. Turner, I've changed me mind," he said, getting up and walking towards the door. "If you spring me from this cell, I swear on pain of death, I will take you to _The Black Pearl_ and your bonny-lass. Do we have an accord?" He offered a handshake through the door. _Why the sudden change? _After only a moment's hesitation, Will grasped his hand.

"Agreed."

"Agreed. Now get me out!"

Will pushed down on the bench sticking into the door, lifting it off its hinges. With a loud clang he tossed both the door and the bench aside, and Jack scurried out.

"Hurry. Someone will have heard that."

"Wait!" I jumped to my feet, grasping the bars of my door. "Jack?" He spun around towards me.

"Ah, yes," he said, now turning to Will. "Get her out." I heaved a shaky sigh, still unsure of what I was going to do. Then it dawned on me like the sharp sunlight that bothered me just a few minutes ago.

_Are you mad?_ the reasonable part of my mind asked. I bit my lip. Mad enough.

Mr. Turner did the same thing to my door as he did to Jack's, and I slowly stepped out, barely managing a clear thank you. The other two prepared to leave, and I swallowed hard. "J-Jack," I faltered, unable to keep my anxiousness hidden, "Please don't leave me here." The two turned to face me.

"What?" Jack asked as if he hadn't heard what I said, or didn't want to.

If this was going to work, I'd have to sound convincing. I wouldn't be lying, but if I didn't seem desperate enough... "The man who owns me... he'll kill me if I don't get out of here!"

"Who?" asked Will. I was surprised at the amount of concern in his voice.

"Sam Harvey. I've tried escaping before, and..." I blinked back the desperate tears that burned behind my eyes. I brought them there purposely, but it wasn't difficult to do. Every word at this point mattered, and if I prevented my own escape... I wouldn't know how to live if I had to return to Sam. "I can't go back to him. He'll beat me and starve me or do anything else he wishes to punish me." Jack simply raised his eyebrows, whereas Will looked at me seriously, maybe a hint of worry in his eyes.

"What exac'ly are you trying to say?" asked Jack. Somehow my knees burned with nervousness as I forced myself to look him in the eyes.

"Can you take me with you?" As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I just wanted to disappear. I sounded so foolish.

Jack tilted his head to the side. _Oh God, please. Please, please..._

After a long, unbearable pause, he said with authority, "We can't 'ave anyone slowing us down." My heart sunk, and words flew out of my mouth before I could think.

"But look what he's done to me!" I rolled up my sleeve to reveal a few old bruises, then uncovered several overlapping scars on the inside of my right wrist. They were small, but still visible, even if they were a few years old. Sam used to wear a silver ring with a fairly small bead of gold set in the center. Around the setting were sharp edges, and when I "displeased" Sam, he'd clutch my arm and swipe his knuckles across the inside of my wrist or just above, giving me a small slice from the edges of the ring. I glanced at Will, who leaned closer to study my arms. He looked away quickly and turned to Jack while I already began mentally cursing myself if this was the wrong thing to do.

"Well that's not nice at all," muttered Jack as he stared thoughtfully. Will frowned.

"She could be useful for something," he offered, briefly scanning me up and down. I nearly grinned.

"I can cook, I can clean, I can... um, I can sew..."

Jack's voice cut in. "Can you do anything aboard a ship?"

"I can learn," I replied. Suppressing as much fear and nervousness as I could for even a second, I brought my eyes up to Jack's, straightened, and returned his thoughtful gaze, holding it for as long as I possibly could. After another intense moment, he shrugged his shoulders as if it didn't matter at all.

"Hurry up, then. But," he raised his pointer finger again, "we'll talk over specifics later."

My body flooded with weak, tingly relief. I bit back the bright smile that dared to show up on my face, but I'm sure my happiness wasn't so easily hidden.

_I'm free! I'm finally free!_


	7. Rush

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Six:**

After quickly but carefully sneaking out of the jail, we hid underneath a bridge just off the harbor of Port Royal. Jack made a great deal of splashing, getting some water on my face, but the brief spritz felt good on my skin. The ends of my dress were obviously getting quite damp, so when Jack and Will stopped for a moment, I hiked up the ends so I wouldn't have trouble running if the need arose.

"We're going to steal a ship?" asked Will, standing behind Jack as he observed a ship very far off shore. "That ship?" He looked nervously at the huge ship far off.

"Commandeer," Jack corrected, "We're going to commandeer _that_ ship. Nautical term." He pointed to a smaller ship that was just being unloaded from the dock. I had no idea how we could do such a thing, but knowing all the stories about Captain Jack Sparrow, I knew it'd be better just to trust him. I was still trying to put my excitement aside; this was serious, and I couldn't let my joy of freedom make me act carelessly. I'd have enough time to be excited later, at least I hoped so. "One question about your business, boy, or there's no use going." Jack turned around to face Will. "This girl... how far are you willing to go to save her?"

"I'd die for her," Will replied with a passion. I smiled gently at his courage and devotion, trying to push back the thought that wished I had someone who'd do that for me.

"Oh good! No worries then," Jack spun around to face the ship again, and Will looked at me worriedly. I just smiled, mouthing "No worries."

"I'm Charlotte," I added quietly, offering my hand. He shook it, and just as he was about to ask me something, Jack shushed him.

"Shh! We wait until the coast is clear."

"For what?" I whispered.

"For getting t' those boats." He motioned over at some abandoned, overturned rowboats just off shore.

We had to wait only a few minutes or so, and with much dodging and hiding behind barrels, bushes, and anything else convenient at the time, we made it to the rowboats, and Jack ordered us underneath one. Once again, there was more waiting, and when Jack thought it the "opportune moment," we began walking down the shore and to the water with the rowboat over our heads. My stomach churned with nervousness and excitement as I prayed no one would see us and that it'd actually work. I had to wonder if Jack had done something like this before and if he knew what he was doing. We waded in the water up to our shoulders (or my chin, since I was shorter), dipped the head of the boat slightly downward, and continued walking along the ocean floor. Once the entire boat was submerged, there was an air pocket where our heads were, leaving us able to breathe. The air was very, very dense, hardly breathable at all, but at least we weren't drowning.

"Captain?" I asked as I struggled to keep my head in the air pocket.

"Yes?"

"Just curious," I said before nearly tripping on the end of my dress, an end that had gotten loose sometime during the journey, "But how did you know this would work? You must have used this trick sometime before, right?"

I craned my neck to see Jack smile smugly. "That I did. Long, long time ago. Ye say you've heard a lot about me, so I ask you, did you hear about the escape at Port Morant?"

"Port Morant..." I repeated, racking my brain for anything on Port Morant. Nothing. "No, I don't think so. What happened?"

"Not much time to explain, now, love. In short, my mate and I were supposed to meet a friend of ours on his ship, and we got a bit... mm. _Restricted _in the ways we could get there. My mate, Captain Crazy-Code Corley, intr'duced this... unique method of getting places to me."

_Captain Crazy-Code Corley? Is that-? No, that's... too impossible, _I thought. Then I remembered Jack's words from the night before. _Improbable, perhaps, but never impossible._

After a pause, I asked, "I've never heard of Captain Crazy-Code Corley before. Where was he from? Do you know?"

"'Course I know!" he said. "From around here, in fact."

_So he's right. Mr. Corley and Jack Sparrow were friends? _Then another question slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Why was he called 'Crazy-Code' Corley?"

A short sigh came from behind me right before Jack answered. I assumed all this pirate talk didn't appeal to Mr. Turner.

"He had a tendency to alter the Pirate's Code. Not always fer the best, either."

I considered his answer in silence and decided to save any other questions for later. There were much more serious things that needed concentration at the moment.

It took us a while, but we did eventually reach the ship Jack had referred to: the _HMS Dauntless_. After tilting the tip of the rowboat up a little, we shot quickly to the surface, our three heads popping up harshly from beneath the water. We abandoned the rowboat and Jack ordered us up the stern of the ship. We had to do a bit of climbing, and it was incredibly difficult for me because my dress was soaking wet and weighing me down. Jack led the climb, followed by Will, followed by me. As I was beginning to fall behind, Will waited for me and offered a hand when I caught up, politely helping me up the rest of the way. When we all reached the deck I whispered a grateful thank you to Will, who bobbed his head in a quick nod. Jack hurriedly walked down some steps to the main part of the deck in front of us. There were at least eight soldiers standing in a group where Jack was heading; what he planned to do about them I couldn't guess. They looked unarmed, but I soon noticed their muskets leaning against each other nearby in a small pile.

"Everyone stay calm, we're taking over the ship!" Jack declared as he approached the men. Will wasn't far behind, and wanting to contribute something I suppose, said,

"Aye! Avast!" He pulled his sword out of his belt and held it back, pointing it at the group.

The soldiers laughed and Jack gave Will a look that probably only seemed funny to me. I remained silent and quickly dodged over to the pile of muskets while the men were temporarily distracted.

"This ship cannot be crewed by two men," said who I guessed was their leader. He suddenly noticed me and added with even more amusement, "And a young woman. You'll never make it out of the bay!"

Jack smirked, pulled out his pistol, cocked it, and aimed it at the man's face. "Son, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?"

Taking this as my cue, I picked up two of the muskets from the pile, one in each arm, and aimed them at the group as well.

"Off you go."

Without much more hesitation or argument, the three of us had gotten the eight men into one of the _Dauntless_'s many rowboats and lowered into the water. Jack ordered Will and I to do this or that, and I frenzily obeyed. As all of us were running about, I shouted to anyone who would answer,

"How is taking the _Dauntless_ going to help us get the _Interceptor_?"

"You'll see!" Jack shouted back from the other end of the ship, by the wheel. I'd certainly have to get used to following Jack's orders on trust alone when there wasn't time to wonder why.

It couldn't have been more than five minutes since we'd gotten the soldiers off the ship when Will announced that the _Interceptor_ was coming. I leaned out over the side of the ship while grasping a rope, and sure enough, there was the ship. Sailing. Towards us. We weren't going to _attack_ them, were we? No, Jack was... _peculiar_, but he wasn't stupid. Of course not. Jack walked past me with a devious grin on his face. _Of course not_.

The next thing I knew, Jack, Will and I were ducking behind different cargo piles on deck as we watched the _Interceptor_ sail right up next to us. The shouts from the neighboring ship could be heard easily from my hiding spot, and my heart pounded anxiously as I watched the ship with wide eyes. Jack gave me strict orders to stay put until he gave the signal. In all the rush I hadn't gotten the chance to ask exactly what the signal was. I remained as still as stone as the other ship's crew layed plank bridges across the gap inbetween us. Shortly after, the troops marched across them and onto our deck. My eyes darted wildly towards Jack's hiding spot, but I couldn't see him (of course) because he was out of sight.

"Search every cabin, every hull, down to the bilges!" an authoritative voice shouted.

As I watched the very last soldier cross the bridge, I felt two seconds' worth of panic. Had I missed the signal? Suddenly, Jack went swinging over to the _Interceptor_. Will followed on a rope of his own. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I looked up at the loose rope in front of me, then down into the water far below. There wasn't much time for hesitation, so I snatched the rope, stood on the rail, and held on tight as I let my feet slip. The whole short ride over I held my breath, and let it choke out when I crashed very ungracefully on the other ship's deck.


	8. Getting Acquainted

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Seven:**

_Ow._

When I landed rather clumsily on the deck of _The Interceptor_, I opened my eyes, relieved to see that I had made it to the other ship. When I took a quick step to go join Jack and Will, however, I tripped over an end of my dress, falling with a _thump_ onto the rock-hard wood paneling.

I groaned as I pulled myself up. As soon as Jack's plan had followed through I would definitely have to find something else to wear on board the ship. I really hoped neither Will nor Jack had seen, not only my awkward entrance, but my even more awkward moment afterwards. They were both busying themselves with the ship, paying me no heed until Will passed me, using an axe to chop the ropes connecting 'our' ship with _The Dauntless_. I spun around to look back at the other ship. The soldiers were quickly carrying out their orders, still searching the ship with too much determination and focus to realize what was going on. It wasn't until our ship had begun pulling away, the board bridges splashing into the water below, that anyone had noticed what happened. One of their leaders barked out an order to get back to _The Interceptor_. Only one man even tried to do so; he swung towards our ship the same way we had, but only to land with a splash into our wake.

"Thank you Commodore, for getting us ready t' make way! We would've had a hard time of it by ourselves!" Jack gloated, waving his tri-corner hat triumphantly. I grinned, even if I had little to do with our victory.

"Look out-!" I didn't hear Will's shout until it was too late. I felt a sudden sting on the outside of my right shoulder, and it took a moment for my brain to register that I'd just been shot. I cupped my left hand over where I thought the wound was and ducked behind the rails of the ship as the soldiers continued firing their muskets. Will was already ducking, and as soon as our ship made it a bit farther from the other, our pursuers stopped firing. Will stood and came to my side; I stood as well, still holding my shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked with genuine, if distracted, concern. I pulled my hand away from my shoulder and looked down to see only a little blood. The bullet had just grazed me.

"Yes, I'm all right. You?"

He hesitated before nodding dubiously. He watched Jack for a few moments, so I did, too. The Captain was content on steering the ship, not even throwing another glance back at _The Dauntless_. Remembering my wound, no matter how minor, I turned back to Will.

"Do you think Jack would mind if I explored below deck?" Will shrugged.

"Go ahead."

So I did. It didn't take me long to find a door leading below, so I opened it and stepped down the ladder cautiously. Truth be told, I'd never been on a ship before, and it was a little intimidating. My walk swayed slightly as I tried to get used to being on the sea. I had no idea where I should have started looking for any medical supplies, so I walked down to the small, empty little hall aimlessly, absorbing the atmosphere. Since this was one of the King's ships, it was pretty well furnished, and clean; much cleaner than I expected a ship to be. Smooth wood was everywhere. Five doors lined up on either side of the hall, most shut, few open. The latter of these I peeked through as I passed by. One such room looked incredibly official; many maps on shelves everywhere, a desk (which instantly reminded me of the old one back at the jail, though the two were very different in appearance), complete with a sitting area of wood chairs with seat cushions. It was a very small room, all that could be expected for a ship, but the Navy certainly didn't seem to hold back when it came to comfort.

I passed the room and backtracked to explore the other end of the hall. I passed the few remaining doors before reaching the end and entered a plain room that looked very much like a pantry or supply room. Thinking I might find something to bandage my arm with, I opened a few cabinets and rummaged through them. After the fourth try I found what looked like the medical supply cabinet and removed the things I needed.

Within a few minutes my shoulder was cleaned up and bandaged. I put the supplies away and hurried back the way I came, out the hall and past the large open room where the cannons and various equipment was stored. I'd leave the rest of the exploring for later; I had to report to Jack. After all, I was here to help him and Will, not spend time tending to my wounds. For some reason, actually being _on_ the ship made things feel different. More official, like the conversations I'd had with the two didn't even exist before this. Like I was back to being the servant again.

Only this time, the servant was _much_ happier to comply.

I climbed back on deck to find Jack still at his post by the wheel and Will leaning over the edge of the railing, both staring out at the sea. Entering during their quiet moments felt a little awkward, but I hastened up the few steps to the wheel and approached Jack, nodding respectfully.

"Is there anything you'd like me to do, Sir?" I asked effortlessly. Those words had been said so many times before that I didn't have to think for them to roll off my tongue. (Except now they rolled off without that tone of restrained frustration.) Jack looked at me for a moment and raised an eyebrow.

"Not at the moment," he said, turning back to his stare at the ocean ahead of us. "Mister Turner informs me you've been shot?"

"Just a scratch, I'm fine. Thank you, sir."

He looked back at me again curiously. "_Captain_ will do, love."

I nodded. "Yes, Captain."

There was a moment of silence before he spoke up again.

"Now. About those specifics..."

I nodded, worriedly remembering the terms of my freedom and wondering what I was in store for. Would he keep me? For how long? Why did he even let me come? Only to free me? How long would I be with the two before he planned to let me go? Where were we even going? I stopped myself at this question, remembering the conversation the men shared back at the jail. From what I'd gathered, we were going to rescue the Governor's daughter, Elizabeth, who was taken away on _The Black Pearl_. For some reason the girl meant something to Will, who asked Jack to help him, to which Jack agreed.

A new thought suddenly sparked in my head. Why didn't it dawn on me before? Jack didn't want to rescue Elizabeth, he wanted to rescue his ship! I'd wondered why he agreed to Will's offer so quickly. _The Black Pearl_. I mentally slapped myself for not catching it before. But did Will know of Jack's plans? What exactly was Jack planning? I felt my chest tighten up as I remembered who _sailed_ the _Pearl_. A band of cursed pirates. Pirates who were not living, but not dead. And Jack was going to get his ship back from _them_? And Elizabeth was being held captive by said pirates. What were they going to do to her? Why did they kidnap her in the first place? How were Will and Jack going to get both her, and the _Pearl_ back... before it was too late?

As all these realizations and questions hit me at the same time, I almost missed what Jack was saying.

"We're picking up a crew in Tortuga." The name of the city clicked in my memory from overhearing Sam and the others talking about it. That day seemed so faint and far away. "We'll be there by tomorrow night. You said you didn't know much about workin' a ship, eh?"

"No, sir. _Captain_," I quickly corrected. A corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

"No worries about that then, because as soon as we 'ave a crew, you won't need to. Much." He turned back to the ocean but kept speaking. "However, the cookin', cleanin' and such is free for the working. You think you can do that?"

"Yes, Captain, it'd be an honor."

He turned to look at me again, this time both corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile of more amusement. It was gone in a second, but the effect was still on his face. "Charlotte."

I nodded, unable to keep from smiling a little. "Yes?" For some reason I hadn't expected him to remember my name. Will came up behind me, approaching the two of us, and Jack's expression stiffened. His eyes went once again to the ocean.

"I want to see you before sundown to go over those specifics."

_Didn't we just do that?_

Jack gave me a knowing look. I barely caught it, a small flicker in his eyes that told me everything I needed to know. The breeze from the ocean suddenly made me shiver. I looked away, averting my own eyes respectfully.

"Yes, Captain."

---

The rest of the afternoon went by slowly but pleasantly. Not only did I have fun (_that_ was a fairly new concept) poking around every nook and cranny of the ship, but I'd managed to find a new change of clothes. It looked like a cabin boy's outfit, but I didn't care; anything was more comfortable than what I'd worn for the past day and a half. By that evening I was feeling pretty much at home.

I had just finished cooking a meal for Will and Jack, using whatever I found in the ship's kitchen (which wasn't much--whatever was there seemed to be the leftovers from the ship's last journey), and decided to go out on deck to watch the sunset while they ate, since I'd eaten earlier. I went to the bow of the ship and leaned over the railing, my elbow resting on it as my chin rested in my hand. The sight was breathtaking, and I smiled dreamily in admiration of its beauty. I'd seen very few sunsets in my lifetime, and only then I'd have to see them from land, but on the sea... it was beautiful. With nothing but endless water surrounding you, water that shimmered brilliantly underneath the sun's last rays before it rested on the horizon and sunk below; it almost put all other sunsets to shame. The warm orange of the sun stained the sky around it hues of yellow, pink, and red. I knew you were never supposed to look directly at the sun, but I couldn't help it. My eyes melted right in with all the colors. Everything was so quiet. The cool breeze breathed softly while the waves lapped rhythmically against the ship.

I sighed. To think that I could only hope I would _dream_ about something like this the day before... a day my brain refused to remember and pushed away, for which I was grateful. Did Sam know I was gone yet? I smirked a little, letting myself relax more against the railing. Thank goodness I wouldn't be around to witness the moment he did find out. I was free now. Maybe not safe, but I was free. I still had to work, but I was _free_. Free from the alleys of Port Royal, free from that stinking old hut, and best of all, free from Samuel Harvey.

I took a breath and sighed again shakily in indescribable relief, returning my attention to the sunset.

"It's a sight, isn't it?"

I turned half-way to see Will come up next to me, who leaned over the rail as well. I turned back to the sun, still smiling softly.

"Mm-hmm." There was a pause before I asked, "Have you been on the sea much, Mr. Turner?"

"Will," he offered. "No. I sailed here from England a long time ago, looking for my father. Haven't been on a ship since."

A dark cloud seemed to pass over his face as he said 'father,' and I got the feeling he didn't want to discuss it any further. The following silence was long but not necessarily uncomfortable. Will broke it, asking me a question this time.

"That man, the man who did those things to you..." He trailed off, and I turned to face him, letting him continue. "How could you end up living with a man like that?"

I shook my head with an expression that partially hid the automatic dismal feelings that came from the mention of Sam. I figured it would take a while for me to get used to remembering I didn't have to worry about him anymore. "I don't know, I just did." I explained how my mother left me in Emma's care and how I'd been with Sam for the past six years. His reaction was very much like George's, when I'd told him before the ceremony.

"Six years?"

"Yes."

He simply nodded with a frown, and I was suddenly reminded of something I should have done earlier.

"I wanted to thank you for encouraging Jack to take me with you two," I said quickly, facing him. He smiled a bit, and I noticed it was the first time I'd seen him make anything close to a happy expression.

"You're welcome. I only hope you end up somewhere better than where you've been." I smiled gratefully before turning back to the sunset, which was now closer to its end.

A few moments later the sound of footsteps came from behind us. I turned, knowing who it was (of course, he was the _only_ other person on the ship) and why this person was approaching me.

"I'd like t' see you below deck, Miss Charlotte," Jack stated simply. I nodded, and with a quick unspoken goodbye to Will, I followed the Captain.

---

The two of us went into the room I'd peeked in earlier that afternoon, the one that looked like a study of some sort. Jack shut the doors behind us and I couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive. The room was very dark, so Jack lit a single candle that rested inside a mount on the wall and motioned for me to sit down in one of the cushioned chairs nearby. I did, watching him carefully. He sat across from me in a chair identical to mine and leaned over slightly. There was a serious look on his face, but in his eyes was the same sort of glint I saw earlier.

"There's somethin' we need to get straight." His voice was low and smooth, easy on the ears.

"Yes, Captain?" I replied softly. His eyebrows creased, and he leaned back an inch.

"Why all the formalities, love?"

I blinked.

"After all, we're pirates."

I chuckled at this, which only seemed to confuse him more. He shook his head, trying not to get sidetracked from whatever it was he was going to tell me.

"Now I'm about to tell you somethin' very important, and you must do as I say. Savvy?" I nodded slowly. It slightly irked me that the way he was speaking to me was the way someone would speak to a small child, though that's probably how I looked in his eyes. "Good. Now, you know what we're doing, aye?"

"I think so," I said, tugging at the end of my braid in as unnoticable a way as possible. "We're going to _The Black Pearl_ to rescue the Governor's daughter, and y--" I stopped abruptly. In truth, I _wanted_ him to know I knew. For some reason I just couldn't come right out and say it.

"And what?" Jack asked suspiciously, one of his eyebrows arched. After a long pause, he said, "Ah. Ye've figured it out."

"I think so," I repeated. "You want _The Black Pearl_."

Jack's eyes stared into space for a moment before returning to my own. "That I do." My heart ached for my shipless Captain. Then it seemed to skip a beat when I realized how easily I'd just thought of him as _my_ Captain. His expression changed again, and he leaned closer once more. "Right, what you saw back at the Port? With the..." he paused, glancing at his hands as if for help, then used one to snatch himself about the neck, using a high-pitched voice to imitate a more dramatic version of my reaction: "AH! What's going on? Shreddin' waistcoats!" I restrained a chuckle as he released himself, expression serious again, "That's just between you and me."

I nodded. "Does Will know?" He paused, long enough for me to guess the answer, but he decided to tell me himself.

"No. An' we'll keep it that way, aye?"

"Yes." I nodded again, and he nodded back.

"Good! It's settled then." He stood up, on his way to the door, when I suddenly remembered a question I wanted to ask earlier.

"Wait, could you tell me more about Captain Crazy-Code Corley?" The question escaped my mouth far more meekly than I meant. He stopped mid-step and looked back with a slightly arched eyebrow.

"Why?"

I didn't have any real reason to keep it from him.

"Captain Corley was the husband of the woman who raised me, the one who told me all the stories about you." His eyebrow raised up higher, putting such an expression on his face I found it hard to keep from giggling again despite the seriousness of our conversation.

"Oh?"

I bobbed my head. "Yes. Mr. Corley's the man that gave me away. He... didn't like children." I looked down at my hands which were now resting in my lap. I bit my tongue patiently as I waited for Jack's reaction, which was to step away from the door and walk slowly around the room.

"Not many scallywags do," he said, passing my chair and making his way to the desk. I didn't look up but kept intensely focused on his voice for whatever he was going to say. I heard his footsteps continue, and the sound of a drawer from the desk opening. "How is the brute these days?"

"Mr. Corley?" I looked up in surprise, then shrugged a little. "He's dead."

A pause. "Oh."

I turned around in my chair slightly to look at him. "Last year, I think." I glanced aside from Jack's studying stare on the desk to the floor, remembering the day I'd heard of Mr. Corley's death. "'The old man drank himself to death, he did.' That's what one of Sam's mates said. I don't know if that part's true or not, but he's dead."

Jack tilted his head to the side as if considering the statement, then shrugged, his formerly dark expression fading away slightly. "Not surprisin'." He flipped through some papers he'd pulled out of the drawer, but what he expected to find, I didn't know. An uncomfortable silence hung over the room until I decided to change the subject.

"Well... where can I sleep tonight?"

Jack tossed the papers carelessly back into the drawer and shut it, moving around the desk to search some more while he spoke. "Anywhere ye want to, really." He looked up and gave me a playful wink, not nearly as suggestively delivered as I was sure he gave to women more 'mature' than me. I smiled freely as I stood.

"Is it all right if I take a room in the hall?"

"As you wish. Why not one of the cabins below?"

I shifted uneasily and hoped Jack didn't notice. On the bottom deck were all the sailor 'beds,' mostly hammocks in an open room, but also two or three small cabins. They were identical in appearance, bleak, and I hated to admit it, even to myself because it was rather pathetic: a bit spooky. I knew I'd be much more comfortable on the deck Jack and I were on at that moment, in one of the rooms, sleeping on the old sofa I'd found or a comfortable chair. Plus, I knew my way around. As much as I could in less than twelve hours, anyway.

"I just like it up here. It's nice." I looked around the room approvingly, hoping my point was made, then felt ridiculous for making what probably looked like an obvious artificial action.

"Very well. I'll be in the Captain's quarters, of course. Will'll be... wherever he wants." Jack waved a dismissive hand. I supposed he wasn't too fond of Mr. Turner quite yet. I nodded and headed out the door, parting with a simple,

"Goodnight."


	9. Not Quite As Planned

**Author's Note: **Welcome to the first new chapter in... almost exactly five years! XD Moving to a new house in 2005 delayed this at least six months, but by that time I had major writer's block. Over the next few years I ended up writing six different versions of this chapter, on top of repeatedly and sporadically editing and rewriting all the previous chapters because of plot and character issues. Then I started college part-time, then went full-time. lol So yeah. I know that kind of thing happens to a lot of fanfiction writers in particular, but I've never wanted to give up on this story, even if I never ended up posting the finished version here. It'll still take a lot of time and energy and imagination to finish (three things I never seem to have at the same time these days), but I hope for now you enjoy what I have so far. So on with the story!

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Eight:**

We reached Tortuga the next evening just as Jack predicted. I'd learned a little more about what things on the ship were called, and even found out from Will (after I remembered to ask), how he and Jack had known each other before that morning in jail. Their first meeting sounded very... entertaining.

The whole day on sea was tense for Will. The woman he loved was in danger and we'd hardly begun to carry out our mission of rescue. I may not have been emotionally involved with our goal, but I was there to help in any way I could, so I took extra troubles to show my sympathy around him. It wasn't much; I tried to look more determined as I followed orders and worked about the ship, among other things, but I didn't expect it to be noticed by either of my crewmates as they grew more focused on the plan. I was excited but nervous, and those feelings reached their peak when I watched our destination grow closer and closer once it was visible on the horizon. If Tortuga really was a nearly lawless place, it probably wasn't the safest place for a young woman like me, but then the excitement kicked in. I'd never been outside Port Royal in my entire life, so going somewhere new, dangerous or not, I was eager for its experience. Besides, I knew I'd be safe with not only one, but two grown men close by--and one of them was a pirate himself.

As it turned out, the Captain had other plans.

As I helped Will ready one of the rowboats to go ashore, Jack approached from behind and cleared his throat. I turned from my work while Will ignored him.

"You should stay here an' guard the ship. Are you up to the task?" My mouth opened and closed a few times before releasing a rushed agreement. "Good girl," he said, bidding me aside with his hands before taking on the work he'd interrupted. My shoulders hung with disappointment. _They never meant to take me along_. It made sense, but it still hurt. The men were in the middle of lowering themselves into the water when I dashed to the rail to ask,

"Can I come ashore tomorrow?"

"We'll see," Jack called up.

---

I spent the next hour sitting on the floor against the mast or pacing the deck while a nagging thought wore on my nerves. Did I do something wrong? Besides preparing their meals and learning odd jobs around the ship, I really hadn't provided Jack or Will with any evidence that their decision to take me was a particularly good one.

I stopped pacing abruptly as a new thought made me weak in the knees. If my crewmates ever changed their minds about me... where would they leave me? Back at Port Royal? Some smaller settlement on a shore in the middle of nowhere? America? It almost didn't matter where they left me--I'd still be alone. It wasn't unheard of for girls my age to forge a living for themselves, oftentimes they started even younger; but as often as I thought about freedom, I shivered sadly as I realized I rarely considered the price.

I shook my head and focused on playing with the sword at my waist. (Though I didn't exactly know how to use a sword, I'd found one for myself the day before and got in the habit of keeping it close by. At least I'd _look_ more capable.) I'd have to ask someone for lessons once Jack found a crew. Not only for the sake of defense during our mission, but afterwards... my mind started swimming, and I suddenly felt very, very tired.

It wasn't much later when I heard movement in the water. Thinking and hoping it was Jack and Will, I rose from my seat against the mast and stood where I did an hour before. It had gotten much darker since the men left, so I had to squint my eyes to try and identify the figures in an approaching rowboat just pulling up next to our ship.

"_Gi'mme the rope_," I heard someone whisper.

"_And you're sure there's no one on board?_" another questioned quietly. I slowly backed away from the edge, holding my breath as I listened for more.

"_Of course. It's dark as ink, and I watched as a boat left 'ere. Nobody'll even notice she's gone. We're all set. _"

"_We're all daft, that's what we are._"

"WHY-'d ye bring ME alon-along?!" a different voice (obviously drunk) demanded loudly. It was quickly shushed by the other voices. That was enough. This _definitely_ wasn't Jack and Will. Were they planning to_ take _the ship? I drew my sword and began to panic. I couldn't stop three or more grown men by force!

"_Hurry now,_" said one of the voices. I had to hurry. Thoughts flashed as fast as they could through my head. I dashed to the wheel, took in and released a deep, unsteady breath, and prayed my memory of a procedure I'd only seen once, one day before, wouldn't fail me.

I heard a _clank_ come from where the men supposedly were. I looked up from my finished work and squinted through the darkness. Something hook-like held on to the edge of the ship with a rope attached to it. _They're preparing to board. _The floor-door to below deck was open, so I rushed to the entrance and jumped in, shutting the grille quietly behind me.

Seconds later, I heard footsteps above.

"I'm up. It's clear," said one of them. More footsteps thumped against the deck. My mind raced but didn't seem to be getting anywhere fast enough.

"She's a beauty, isn't she," someone said.

"Mm. Go raise the anchor."

My swirling thoughts started getting somewhere. I ran out of the main room I was in to the hall, my legs weak. After a few moments I reached a very small room close to the kitchen that stored about three dozen muskets. I bit my lip while scanning the rows of them, then tried to calm my panic when I realized I wasn't entirely sure how to load one. The men's voices reached my ears from above, but while I couldn't make out what they were saying, their tones sounded confused. I took a small bag of bullets from a shelf, slipped the drawstring's loop around my left wrist, and brought my sword to that hand before taking a musket and the short rod beside it from the wall. I didn't know what I was going to do when I ran back to my position beneath the hatch except hope my rescuers would return to rescue me again at any moment.

"What're we going to do?" someone asked gruffly and urgently.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Can't you fix it?"

"Not soon enough." The man grumbled something to himself. I released a sigh of hopeful relief, and even smiled a little. Jack had disabled _The Dauntless_'s rudder chain to help us take _The Interceptor_, and I was there to watch him do it. It sounded like my plan to do the same to our ship had worked.

"How 'bout we just do some plundering?"

"We might have to. You start below deck."

I let out a puff of frustration and winced, all my relief dashed away. I quickly set down my sword and opened the bag of bullets, which also held a small flask-like container of gunpowder. I tried to stop my arms from shaking as I briefly examined the gun, trying to open anything that could be opened and found a small door not far from the trigger. It seemed to be just behind the base of the barrel, so I poured in a little gunpowder and tried to convince myself that such a small compartment couldn't be used for anything else, since I knew the bullet went in from the front of the barrel. I shut the door to the compartment and poured more gunpowder into the barrel's opening just in case before inserting the small, paper-wrapped bullet and pushing it back as far as I could with the rod. I cocked the gun, positioning it on my shoulder with my finger on the trigger as I listened and looked up through the grille, though all I could see was night sky. Footsteps neared. I held my breath.

One of them called, "Head to the Captain's quarters."

"Aye," mumbled the man almost right above me.

_I can't kill anyone._ I waited for him to open the door. Then I'd fire.

He lifted the door and stepped backwards down the ladder, not even glancing inside to notice me kneeling just a few feet away. I clutched the musket tightly and braced myself for whatever would happen next... I aimed, and pulled the trigger.

A deafening _pop_ right beside my ear and a brief, small orange spark followed by a strong smell and cloud of smoke was what happened next. The man yelped and tumbled from the ladder to the floor in front of me, and I dropped the musket in shock, for some reason deciding to trade it for my sword nearby. I waited a moment for the smoke to clear and saw that I'd reached my target, one of the man's feet. He clutched it in his hands, moaning loudly and shouting,

"There's someone here!"

I gripped my sword tighter. _Hide or fight?_ They knew I was there, and the enclosed rooms below deck made me feel trapped. I climbed the ladder before realizing this meant I'd have to fight.

The other two men were on the opposite end of the ship by the wheel, one staring at me, stunned, while the other leaned against a barrel, too drunk to notice and do anything. The sober one looked baffled to see a young woman with a sword on a ship, and for a moment seemed to question how courteous to be to me.

"Erm..." he began, taking a hesitant step forward, "How about you put that down, miss." I shook my head vaguely, side-stepping away from the door below and the man ahead, which meant nearing the skinny, teetering drunk one on the barrel. "Give it to me, or I'm going to have to take--HEY!"

With all the speed and strength I could muster, I lunged towards the man on the barrel, one fist pulled back for a shoulder-spraining punch. I wasn't even planning for him to fall backwards over the rail behind him--but when he did, the other man stopped abruptly in his dash towards me, gaping as his partner hit the water below with a splash. I backed away from the rail, eyes fixed on the other pirate as his own stare darted back and forth between me and the railing a few times. A slurred shout for help from the water below seemed to snap him out of his shock.

"Damn it, I'm coming!" he shouted back. With barely a moment of hesitation, he dove over the edge of the ship. Now it was my turn to stand in shock.

"What in the devil...?" A new voice brought me back to panic. _Who are all these people?! _Running purely on nervous energy, I grabbed an oar Jack and Will had left behind and positioned myself at the rope the others had used to board. My heart pounded in my ears as the rope stretched and footsteps climbed the hull. Maybe I could hit them one by one as they tried to board, just stall for time, keep doing _something_...

A tri-corner hat poked out from the edge of the railing. I pulled back and swung the oar as hard as I possibly could.

By the time I recognized Jack Sparrow's face, he was already plunging head-first into the sea.

---

**Author's Note: **I feel more sorry for Jack than Charlotte in this chapter. lol That last voice, by the way, was Gibbs. Hopefully that wasn't confusing. Anyways, thank you so much for reading! Drop me a review and tell me what you think? Next chapter is finished and will be posted soon!


	10. No Turning Back

**Author's Note: **Welcome to chapter nine! Enjoy!

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Nine:**

After a frenzy of rushed introductions, rescues, explanations, and tossing overboard the remaining intruder with a hole in his foot, I found myself waiting anxiously for Jack to wake up in the Captain's quarters. Will and Mr. Gibbs had taken care of everything from reclaiming our ship to dragging Jack on board to cleaning the blood my bullet left behind, leaving me to recover from all the "excitement" and assuring that Jack wouldn't be angry with me when he woke up. I knew they were probably right, but I couldn't help wincing in shame every time I looked at the huge black and purple bruise beginning to swell on his left cheek.

Ten minutes passed before he stirred, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the ceiling, moving his jaw experimentally as he probably tried to remember what had happened.

"Captain?" I asked softly. He turned his head towards me and winced at the movement.

"Did I deserve that?" he asked. I blinked.

"No, of course not! Are you all right?"

"Am I?" He sat up slowly in the now-damp cot, swinging his legs over the side and bringing a few fingertips to his bruise. "Oh, my."

"I'm so sorry! I thought you were someone else trying to take the ship, since there were these other three men who boarded right before you did, and I was running out of ideas-"

"What?"

"There were other pirates trying to take the ship while you were gone, I disabled the rudder chain before they boarded but they didn't go away, so I shot one in the foot and the other two somehow ended up overboard and then you and Will and Mr. Gibbs came aboard and took care of the rest but I hit you with an oar thinking you were someone else." I tried to keep calm but couldn't help rushing through my explanation, hoping not to leave room for any misunderstanding. Jack just froze in the middle of his jaw exercises, leaving his mouth hanging open as he stared back at me. "I'm sorry," I added again quickly, his silence making my stomach twist. The awkward pause went on a few moments longer before he closed his mouth suddenly, eyes darting to the floor for a moment in confusion.

"You saved th' ship?" he asked, gaze warily turning back to my face.

"I... stalled until Will and Mr. Gibbs could save the ship."

"Uh-huh," he replied slowly. He didn't say anything else, so I stood quickly, now longing to change the subject.

"Can I get you anything? Maybe some rum for the pain?" His face lit up instantly.

"Yes, for the pain, yes," he replied, attempting to steel his bright expression into something more serious. I dashed for the exit of the cabin to fulfill his request, embarrassment prickling down my spine.

I didn't sleep well that night. The hurried commotion the next morning took place mostly on land and out of my sight, but I did get to meet a few early recruits who came aboard before Gibbs returned from his errands, apparently very good acquaintances of both him and Jack. Two of the three new members of our crew immediately took to fixing the rudder chain (for some reason asking Will to help them) while the other started packing away some of the supplies they'd brought along. I helped and engaged in easy conversation with him (Archer, a man in his 50s and surprisingly gentlemanlike) until Jack passed by the doorway of the pantry. I caught a glimpse of his cheek and felt another dose of guilt. He hadn't mentioned my mistake again since the night before, even after I returned to give him the bottle of rum, but I didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried. Things could have been worse-the other pirates could have taken the ship-but when I didn't have much to my credit to begin with, knocking the Captain unconscious wasn't the best proof to him and Will that I was worth having on board.

"Above deck, Miss Charlotte," he called. I quickly excused myself and obeyed, wondering why Jack still put a 'Miss' in front of my name when I assured him Charlotte alone was fine. I had to admit, though, being referred to in such a feminine way was a vast and welcome difference from being addressed as 'Lot.'

I went above deck to find Jack returning from the wheel with Will in tow. I joined them both by the ship's remaining rowboat, already prepared and floating beside the ship, and bit back an excited smile as I realized what we were doing. Jack swung over the rail with a grin.

"Let's find us some scallywags."

The trip to shore ended up being completely silent, and given that I wasn't rowing and had nothing to do but either stare at Will or the ocean (Jack rowed behind me), awkward. I rubbed my slightly-wounded shoulder tenderly as a distraction, becoming a little more thankful I didn't have to row. I realized about halfway to shore that the last time the three of us had really been together was also in a particular rowboat, one we just used in an unconventional way a few days ago. The scene flooded back, and I frowned thoughtfully. When I asked Jack about Captain Corley later on in that study, I really hadn't gotten any answers; if anything, I was giving him more information. None of my questions were vitally important, but as someone who knew him personally, Jack seemed to be the best person to take answers from. Will's far away look kept me from even thinking of bringing it up again right there in the rowboat, however, and my heart ached to think of everything already resting on his own.

The rest of the trip left me praying over and over again that Barbossa and his crew wouldn't do Miss Swann any serious harm. Even my trust in Jack's abilities to find the _Pearl _wasn't enough to assure that we'd find the ship _in time_.

We reached a dock where he stepped easily out of our rowboat, already heading towards the shore while Will and I tied up. We shared a gently teasing, exasperated look before following at a sprint, and I eagerly started drinking in the sight ahead of us.

At first glance, Tortuga looked surprisingly like a smaller version of Port Royal. They had similar main streets (except here almost every building was either an inn or a bar, sometimes both), people seemingly busying themselves with the same things, and the settlements shared that morning buzz that was just about to grow into its afternoon commotion. Given, there were more than a dozen or so hungover pirates and prostitutes wandering with great effort to wherever they were going, and another half-dozen still drunk, but it still felt strange to see. The distant racket easily heard from the ship last night (including the occasional gunshot loud enough to echo across the waves) left me with such a different picture. But I guessed it made sense. Any pirates still here could sleep in as long as their hangovers needed them to.

I kept my gaze moving, scanning the faces that passed, when a sudden inexplicable loneliness pulled at my chest.

Just as suddenly, a leather pouch flew over Jack's shoulder and landed on the ground in a small cloud of dirt. He stopped his wavy walk and turned with a pout.

"You were s'posed to catch that."

Will and I glanced at each other before Jack retrieved the money from our feet with a short sigh.

"Mr. Gibbs is stocking up on food an' the like as we speak. So this," he said, briefly dangling the subject in question, "Is for whatever you need." He handed me the pouch and leaned forward with an exaggerated whisper: "But mostly you." I looked down at the bundle in my hands with surprise and relief, knowing Jack wouldn't do this if he was upset with me about last night, though I had absolutely no idea what I'd use the money for. Jack seemed to notice and added, "Perhaps somethin' a trifle more appropriate." He briefly looked over the cabin boy's outfit I'd taken on as my own and swung his head towards a tailor's shop at Will's left. Will and I both looked. In the shop's window was a simple dark green dress with a layered skirt but a _very_ low cut neck.

"Jack!" Will quickly scolded, turning his attention back to the Captain, but my stare lingered. I knew Jack couldn't be serious, but both his suggestion and the image of how poorly I would actually 'fill in' that particular dress started turning my cheeks pink.

"What! I'm only saying she can choose whatever she likes," he replied innocently. "Now I'm off to take care of some business. Be at the docks in half an hour." And with that, Will and I were suddenly left in the street.

"That certainly was _not_ appropriate," Will muttered, giving me an apologetic look soon before Jack disappeared into the growing crowd of people. I just chuckled and shook my head, shaking it off.

"He was just teasing. I guess it would be nice to find something else to wear, though. What about you? We should get your things first."

"No, please, lead the way. I can't think of anything."

I looked around briefly for another tailor's shop before stepping hesitantly towards the one Jack pointed out. "They might have... something."

Shopping was a weird experience. The last time I remembered doing so was obviously with Emma as a little girl, and even then all I could remember was holding her hand and looking around as we walked down the streets and popped in and out of a few doorways. This time I was seventeen, shopping with a man, using money from a _pirate_.

A quick sweep of the tailor's shop convinced me that none of the dresses, even the more modest ones, would be very practical on a ship. But I got an idea after seeing a small pair of breeches from the men's side of the shop, and Will was helpful in finding me a sash while I found a women's plain chemise. The three items ended up costing only four of the twenty or so coins from the pouch, and only ten minutes had passed by the time Will and I were back in the street and looking for an armory. Our next destination reminded me to ask Will or someone else later about teaching me how to use a sword.

Will seemed interested in a particular pistol at the armory, but even though we had enough money left over, he decided against purchasing it. We left empty-handed and met Jack at the docks a few minutes early.

I held the leather pouch out towards the Captain to return what was left, seemingly to Will's surprise, and Jack hesitated slightly before accepting. He smirked and held out what he'd been playing with in his other hand.

"Banana?"

"No thank you, Captain." I said with a smile. Two seconds later I realized I was actually hungry.

Mr. Gibbs suddenly appeared behind Will at my side, calling, "Line up!" About a dozen pirates hurried to do so along one side of the dock, and I quickly examined every new face as it passed by. Most seemed somewhat older, but able-bodied; not that there was time to be picky about a crew.

"Feast your eyes, Cap'n!" said Gibbs from the beginning of the line. Jack sauntered over to his side with Will close behind. I shyly stayed back, leaning against a few crates of supplies towards the end of the row of recruits. "All of them faithful hands before the mast, every man worth his salt," Gibbs continued. He mumbled something else and Will said something in a low voice to Jack, but I couldn't hear from my position. Jack eyed one of the recruits.

"You, sailor!"

"Cotton, sir," Gibbs offered.

"Mr. Cotton! Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?" I gaped at Jack's nimble tongue while Mr. Cotton's was silent. "Mr. Cotton! Answer, man."

"Erm... he's a mute, sir," Gibbs explained. "Poor devil had his tongue cut out. So he trained the parrot to talk for 'im, though no one's yet figured out how."

The next few minutes included Jack addressing a parrot, getting slapped _on top _of the bruise on his left cheek, and being reminded by Mr. Gibbs that having a woman aboard the ship wasn't a good idea. I guessed he made his point earlier upon meeting me the night before, but I was obviously still part of the crew, too. At least as far as I knew.

Soon everyone was scurrying about again and I stepped away from my resting place beside the crates so they could be carried to their new destination. I approached Jack slowly after he said a few words to Gibbs, uncertain about what to do or how to help. He nodded to me after Gibbs and Will both left his side.

"Orders, Captain?"

"Seeing as your hands are quite full at th' moment," he said, glancing at the paper-wrapped packages in my arms, "Just follow me."

He stepped into a rowboat tied to the dock and held out his hand. I switched my two packages to one arm before taking it, trying to climb as gracefully into the boat as possible; then hesitated slightly in sitting down as I realized that was the first time I'd ever actually touched Captain Jack Sparrow.

I quickly sat down and released his hand when I realized I was lingering. He simply reached to untie the boat and pull out the oars. He pushed off easily and watched his new crew load up the other rowboats as we floated further and further away.

The silence stretched on but only felt slightly uncomfortable.

"Thank you for the new clothes," I offered eventually. He broke his stare on the docks behind me, the corner of his mouth turning up a little.

"No worries at all, love. Mr. Gibbs isn't _entirely_ in favor of women aboard, but I see no reason why you can't look like one." He grinned playfully but not flirtatiously. I smiled but couldn't think of a reply. We sunk back into silence until we reached _The Interceptor _and were helped aboard by Archer. Jack gave a few orders before heading for the wheel, not giving me another glance. I took this as a chance to quickly unwrap my packages and change in the study below deck.

I smiled in satisfaction about five minutes later. The breeches fit much more snugly and comfortably than the pair from the cabin boy's outfit. I had torn the end of the chemise to make its length end at my knees instead of the floor, and with the dark red sash around my waist I had formed a makeshift dress. Comfortable with more free movement, but still feminine.

Everyone was aboard and almost finished loading the supplies when I returned above deck. Jack was still at the wheel, now talking with Mr. Gibbs very seriously. We were leaving soon.

I quickly went from person to person to help in any way I could, heart suddenly pumping a little harder. This was really happening. Once we set sail for _The Black Pearl_, cursed pirates, and Miss Elizabeth Swann, there was no turning back.

Was I ready for this?


	11. Way to the Island of the Dead

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Ten:**

Being around fifteen new faces who actually knew what to do aboard a ship was a little intimidating. Everyone seemed to know at least one other person on the crew previously and quickly became acquainted with the rest. I spent most of my time below deck organizing supplies in the kitchen and pantry—the only place I felt at all useful and relatively out of the way of the rest of the crew. I knew I couldn't avoid everyone forever, and I didn't want to, but I convinced myself I was in the right place for now. Someone had to prepare the evening meal soon, anyway.

Our food supplies were limited. After estimating portions and the length of our journey before we could reach another port, I sliced off a large chunk of our salted pork for a stew. As I took to chopping the pork and other ingredients, I glanced towards the doorway of the kitchen a few times to watch as people passed through the hallway for various reasons. Far more pairs of footsteps thumped from above deck than the night before, and I wondered if I would ever be able to tell which pair was Jack's or Will's just by listening. I had only just learned the difference between them over the past few days while we had the ship to ourselves. (Although looking back, the difference was fairly obvious. Both men's footsteps varied between heavy and light, but either way, Jack's always carried multiple rhythms.)

About half an hour passed before the stew was ready, but Archer and two other members of our crew caught the scent slightly before then. The three stood around the doorway of the kitchen, asking each other questions about their new Captain's plans while they waited for the meal. I remained silent even though I knew most of the answers. If Jack or Mr. Gibbs hadn't told them yet, I wasn't going to say anything. I filled some bowls of stew for them and asked if they could spread the word that a meal was ready. I was still nervous about going up to face the rest of the crew despite beginning to feel enclosed below deck.

Everyone filtered in and out of the kitchen over the next half hour, the first few giving their bowls to some of the following crew members since we were slightly short. Most ate and talked in low voices in the kitchen while all offered their thanks for the meal. I wasn't sure why, but I hadn't expected my work to be much appreciated.

Jack never arrived, but I didn't think he would. I quickly prepared an individual bowl of fresh stew for him after everyone else had finished, now longing to go above deck and breathe some fresh air. I wasn't even completely sure about the time of day anymore. I hurried out the kitchen and up the steps with Jack's bowl and realized the ship was swaying a bit more than before. I found out why when I reached the deck. Heavy gray clouds stretched across half the horizon while the rest of the sky slowly darkened.

I headed towards the wheel with a conflicted stomach. Part of me knew we would make it through without loss, but the other part had never been through a storm at sea and didn't truly know what to expect. My innards seemed to calm a little after seeing the confident and collected look on Jack's face.

"Nice and hot," I offered, holding out the bowl with a piece of bread. He turned and accepted them with a distracted acknowledgement. He used his elbow to steady the wheel to free both hands for eating. I watched him thoughtfully before asking, "Any particular orders, Captain?"

His eyes narrowed slightly in thought as he chewed. "Stay below deck during the storm. Keep an eye out for leaks, tend to any wounded," he said. I nodded, somewhat relieved.

"Aye, Captain."

I figured I would wait until he finished eating before returning below deck, so to pass the time in a way that didn't entail simply staring at Jack for however long, I stood by a rail and looked out over the increasingly wavy ocean. The little girl in me longed to just sit and listen to Jack tell stories about his life at sea. The older Charlotte still wondered about his acquaintance with my guardian's husband. Both knew the present wasn't a convenient time to ask him about either subject, and I gripped the railing a bit tighter in slight frustration. I hadn't forgotten how lucky I was to simply be on the same ship with Captain Jack Sparrow (or to simply be on a ship, period), but I couldn't help fearing that none of it would last. In the meantime, what if I missed something because it all slipped away?

Suddenly Jack's arms appeared next to mine against the railing.

"My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you are troubled."

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel somewhat embarrassed, but I ended up doing both before stumbling for words.

"I-that is, if you had time... Captain, might I speak with you?"

"In some manner or form different from the present?"

I nodded awkwardly. "Yes, Captain. Whenever you have time."

He barely bobbed his head in a nod before handing me his empty bowl. "You have my word," he said, spinning smoothly on his heel to return to his post. I sighed silently and remained against the railing a few moments longer, still embarrassed despite basically getting a hint of what I hoped for. _Tremendous intuitive sense, indeed_. I knew he probably wouldn't have time for quite a while, but his promise was enough to quell my impatience. A distant rumble reminded me of my duties and sent me back below deck.

* * *

A surge of water flooded in through the grille. Its unexpected force combined with the lurching ship knocked me off my feet, throwing me back down the few steps I'd just climbed with a harsh and wet _thump_. My backwards landing forced all the air from my chest, and I struggled to breathe in again while cool water soaked through the back of my clothes.

Barely twenty minutes of the storm had passed, and it felt like an hour. Rain and water assaulted the ship from every angle while cracks of thunder deafened from overhead. My head spun with unrelenting dizziness as I tried to follow orders, which so far included repairing one minor leak and retrieving a spare rope Mr. Gibbs shouted for from above deck. I scrambled back to my feet to fulfill that latest command, scooping the heavy coiled rope back onto my shoulder and racing up the steps again.

"Mr. Gibbs!" I opened the grille and squinted as raindrops viciously attacked my face and blurred my view of the deck. "Mr. Gibbs!" My target turned from his position and ran up to me as I flung the coil to his feet.

"Desmond's knocked out, lass!" he shouted, pointing to where he had been standing a moment before. I didn't know who Desmond was, but I recognized the body sprawled out a few yards away. Before I could ask for any help carrying him, Mr. Gibbs ran off to put the rope to use where it was needed. I took an unsteady breath as I crawled onto the deck, images of being tossed into the sea playing games with my head. My already wet clothes were quickly drenched as I crawled towards my crewmate and dodged the paths of others as they took care of the ship. I reached his side and quickly scanned his body for any obvious injuries, and finding none, immediately looped my arms under his shoulders and stood to walk backwards the way I came. Someone noticed my plight and ran up to help.

"Grab his legs!" he shouted, switching places with me at his shoulders. I quickly and gratefully obeyed, and with surprising safety, the two of us managed to carry Desmond down the steps and into the study.

"Thank you," I offered sincerely, wishing I knew his name. "I can take care of him now."

He simply nodded and hurried out the room to the deck. Desmond stirred.

"My head..." he mumbled.

"It's all right, just close your eyes and try to stay still." I studied his face and limbs again for injuries, but aside from some minor cuts I hadn't noticed in the rain, he looked perfectly fine. "Do you know what happened?" I asked.

"I think I tripped... hit my head on something on the way down," he said slowly. I nodded, discreetly brushing his wet hair from his eyes. I noticed he looked about Jack's age but quickly realized I had no idea how old Jack really was.

"I see. Can I get you anything?" I asked.

"Water, ironically," he chuckled weakly. I smiled and rose from my kneeling position beside the sofa.

"Of course, just a moment."

I hurried through the hallway to the kitchen for one of our large jugs of water and poured some into a tankard. I covered the top with my hand to prevent spilling, but still lost a little as the ship threw me into a wall on the way back. I re-entered the study to find my patient bleeding heavily from his nose.

"Desmond!" I grabbed a cloth from the small pile of medical supplies I'd brought to the room ahead of time and started cleaning his face. He was still breathing, but seemed to be slipping back into unconsciousness. "Desmond," I repeated. "Desmond, stay awake..."

He murmured something unintelligible. I desperately attempted to read his lips, straining to hear any whispers through the sounds of the pouring rain outside. He couldn't be dying, he was just hit on the head... but the steady flow of blood from his nose spoke otherwise and made my gut grow tight.

"I'm going to get help," I said quickly, rising to my feet. He reached for my dress with a groan of protest, taking pains to speak more clearly.

"No, it's... pooling in my head... nothing to do, please... just stay here."

I paused a long moment before kneeling beside him again, tears threatening to reach my eyelids.

"You'll be all right," I tried to offer soothingly. His eyes said he knew otherwise. I picked up the tankard again and brought it to his lips for a drink, carefully slipping my hand under his neck for support. He swallowed only once before resting his head again. More blood streamed from his nose, but when I brought the cloth to his face again, he groped the air for my hand and simply brought it and the red cloth to his chest.

Desmond died minutes later.

I held on to his motionless hand a bit longer; I struggled even more not to cry, despite barely knowing this man at all. I took a fresh cloth and gently wiped his face of the last remaining traces of blood. I knew there was nothing to be done about Desmond's body until the storm was over, and it clearly wasn't. I also knew I should return to my duties, no matter how strangely wrong it felt to leave him alone in the room. I gathered the medical supplies in my arms and headed toward the door of the study. If anyone else became wounded, I didn't want to help them here. I stopped short before leaving the room and instinctively turned back one more time._ Rest in peace, Desmond._

* * *

The storm lasted about two hours longer. I found another leak in _The Interceptor_'s bilges-a larger one I definitely couldn't take care of myself and quickly alerted Mr. Gibbs about. He and Marty spent about fifteen minutes trying to patch it up. Before the men returned above deck, I pulled Mr. Gibbs aside and told him about Desmond's fate. He sighed before putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Ye did well being with him," he said. "I'll let Jack know when we're through with this."

The rain stopped and the waves calmed around midnight. I went above deck for some air and ran into most of the crew heading below for some rest. Everyone looked exhausted but seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. I sat and leaned against the mast, breathing the clean air slowly and deeply, mind slowed to almost a halt. I noticed Gibbs speaking with Jack at the helm, and saw a frown cross the Captain's face. In my mind I saw Desmond's still face and my body suddenly felt heavier. That was the last thing I remembered before falling asleep.

* * *

I woke hours later to find the sky just beginning to show signs of light from behind the dense layer of grey clouds. The humidity was high, making the air simultaneously quite warm and eerily cool when the breeze blew. The deck was deserted except for Mr. Cotton at the helm.

After stretching the stiffness from my shoulders, I went below deck to lay out some slices of bread and a bowl of oranges in the kitchen for the crew to eat as they pleased whenever they woke up. Archer came in while I was there and nodded in greeting before beginning to peel an orange.

"Do you know how close we are to Isla de Muerta?" I asked after a few moments. He paused thoughtfully.

"Heard a few hours ago we were a few hours away, so it should be any time now."

I thanked him quietly before leaving the room and heading back above deck. Something told me to find and check on Will despite not knowing what to say when I did so. Mr. Cotton was still at the helm, but as I suspected, Will was now also present and very much awake. He was looking through a telescope near the bow of the ship, attempting to see past some of the blurriness of the horizon. He lowered it from his eyes when he heard me approaching.

"See anything?" I asked.

"Not yet," he replied with a frown. "But we're supposed to be close."

"Did Jack say anything about a plan for when we get there?"

"Not exactly," he said with an expression that showed he wasn't surprised. "But apparently it doesn't involve an assault on the part of the crew. I think he means for just the two of us to follow them into the caves first."

I nodded slowly, almost just as confused as Will sounded. Unlike Will, I could actually think of a reason why Jack would want to avoid cannon fire on the _Pearl_, but that didn't illuminate much in the way of alternatives.

"I don't trust him, Charlotte." Will looked me in the eyes intensely. I felt guilty for withholding any information from him, even if it was at Jack's specific request. I looked away.

"I don't blame you. Things might not work out the way we expect, but I know he'll help you rescue Elizabeth."

"But why? What does he have to gain?"

I desperately wanted to tell him but knew it would be more likely to cause tension rather than resolve it. Then I had an idea almost just as crazy as the one I had in jail a few days ago.

Will noticed my expression and asked quickly, "What is it?"

"I agree with you—he has some hidden motives. I still believe Elizabeth will be rescued, but if you're worried…" He looked at me expectantly but I felt somewhat foolish saying the words. "…Maybe I could come with you to the caves, just so you know you have an ally in case something unexpected happens."

He looked like he was going to refuse on the grounds of safety but could see my point. I added, "If we don't need the crew for an assault, then an assault isn't in the plan and you needn't worry about my being in danger. I know how important she is to you, Will… and I swear I'll do anything to help you get her back."

He returned my gaze thoughtfully before his features softened. "Thank you, Charlotte."

I placed my hand on the side of his shoulder for a quick, soft squeeze before turning and heading below deck. My fingers toyed with the tip of my braid as I realized what my suggestion meant. Everything I said to Will was true, but could almost equally be applied to Jack; I wanted to save Elizabeth, but I also wanted to save my Captain's ship. If neither Jack nor Will trusted each other during this mission, I feared neither rescue would happen.

I noticed Jack leave the Captain's quarters a few minutes after I returned to the kitchen, and over the next half hour the rest of the crew awoke and stopped by to pick up food on their way to the deck. I spent my time peeling some corn ahead of time for the evening meal, still trying to imagine multiple versions of Jack's possible plans.

Eventually I faintly heard the heavy chain of the anchor moving out from the end of the ship. I raced up the stairs and immediately met with the view of our destination. _Isla de Muerta_. The rocky island was much larger than I imagined it to be. Its shores were covered with a grey mist that just barely shrouded what looked like entrances to the caves.

Will somewhat startled me when he turned me aside by the shoulder.

"I know what it is," he said in a low voice. "Jack wants the _Black Pearl_. Barbossa is the one who started the mutiny against him." My mouth opened in surprise, but not at what he learned—how did he learn it all of a sudden? "You're coming with us," he continued. "I don't care what he says."

I followed him to the rope where Jack had already climbed down into a rowboat. Will motioned for me to follow first and I nervously obeyed. Jack squinted his eyes at me when I set foot in the boat.

"Extra pair of eyes," Will said from behind me as he climbed in. The tension sitting between the two of them suddenly felt thicker than the humidity in the air. I quickly grabbed one of the oars and pushed away from the ship with it, awkwardly adding,

"You know I can be dangerous with one of these."

Jack instinctively stretched his jaw. I smiled as he said with a smirk,

"You don't say."


	12. Rescue and Sacrifice

_**Where the Sky Meets the Sea**_

**Chapter Eleven:**

Once again the three of us endured a mostly silent rowboat ride. Apparently the _Interceptor_ had already passed the _Pearl_ anchored in another bay, and we had anchored on the opposite side, out of sight but about the same distance away from the mouth of the caves as they were. My senses heightened as we passed under the entrance and became surrounded by darkness, our lantern doing little to show the way. Soon my eyes adjusted and began to see splitting paths up ahead. Jack kept rowing with nonchalance, clearly knowing his way. Soon parts of the tunnel became lit with a soft blue glow slipping in through the ceiling. The gentle echo of our boat disturbing the water sounded almost hypnotic.

Will noticed something to our side and moved the lantern to get a better look. Our eyes widened at the sight of a sprawled skeleton with a sword through its back.

"What code is Gibbs to keep to if the worst should happen?" he asked.

"Pirate's code. Any man who falls behind is left behind," Jack replied. "I'm not sure on the stipulations for women, however."

"No heroes amongst thieves, eh?" Will said. I cringed inwardly as the tension returned.

"I think I hear something," I lied in a whisper. After the men silenced, however, it was actually true. Distant clanging and muffled voices carried from the tunnel ahead of us. We had to be getting closer—strewn across parts of the cave floor and glittering beneath the water were increasing amounts of gold coins and other treasure.

"Just in time," Jack said cheerfully. He rowed us to a small landing and the voices became almost instantly clearer. He climbed up part of the path to a small opening, the source of the voices and more light. Will and I followed and the breath caught in my throat. Close to three dozen armed and undead pirates surrounded an older man in an imposing hat and a beautiful young woman beside a golden chest.

"Gentlemen, the time has come!" Barbossa shouted. Will breathed Elizabeth's name as he locked eyes on her. "Our salvation is nigh! Our torment is near an end!" Every shout was returned with a roar of cheers from the crew. Barbossa continued his speech as I observed every face and visually swept the chamber of the sparkling piles of coins, jewels, and golden artifacts. Everything about where we were was astounding: beautiful caves (even if they had been empty), the knowledge that the hoard of pirates in view were immortal, and more gold than I ever expected to see in my life.

As Barbossa's speech continued, I snapped out of my astonishment and glanced at Will, staring desperately at Elizabeth, and then to Jack, whose narrow gaze towards Barbossa carried an intense decade of history behind it. Barbossa kicked off the lid of the chest he and Elizabeth stood by.

"The cursed treasure of Cortés himself. Every last piece that went astray, we have returned… save for this." He hissed as he pointed to Elizabeth's neck.

"Jack!" Will seemed to instinctively lunge forward, knocking over a few coins before Jack reached over me to push him back. I reflexively put a hand on Will's arm, silently praying no one noticed the tinkling of the coins as they shifted away from our hiding place.

"We wait for the opportune moment," Jack warned. He returned Will's gaze pointedly before bolting up towards another path. Will and I immediately followed.

"When is that?" Will said. "When it's of greatest profit to you?" _Not now, Will…_

Jack halted. "May I ask you something?" He spun on his heel and I stepped aside, leaving room between the men but still close enough to become a barrier if needed. "Have I ever given you reason not to trust me? Do us a favor, I know it's difficult for you… but stay _here_. And try not to do anything… stupid." Will wrinkled his nose as Jack hurried down the path, but stood still, the look in his eyes making it clear he intended to do things his way.

"Will…?" I whispered.

"Your methods may come in handy, Charlotte," he said before heading backwards down the path towards our boat. He turned for a moment to motion ahead. "Follow him, I'll be back."

"Will!" I whispered harshly, but he was already gone. I didn't bother wondering what he meant by my "methods" before quickly going the way Jack left us. I rounded a few corners before reaching him, just as the crew began chanting. Barbossa held Elizabeth's neck in one hand and a small blade in the other, and I immediately feared Will was right and Jack had failed on his promise.

"Begun by blood… by blood undone."

I was so focused on the scene I didn't notice when Will came up behind us until it was too late. I gasped as Jack hit the floor. Will tossed the oar on top of him and looked me in the eyes.

"I'm not going to be his leverage. Come on."

I followed him a few steps before finding my voice again. "What are we doing? We should have worked togeth—"

"We're rescuing Elizabeth," Will interrupted. We reached another opening in the wall and paused as we noticed Barbossa had only sliced Elizabeth's palm—he and I both breathed a sigh of relief before he continued. "There's no one near the area behind the chest on this side. I'm going to swim to that point and try to get Elizabeth's attention. You hide here and be ready to provide a distraction if necessary."

My mind raced as I tried to assess his plan, but once again, he was already gone before I could say a word. I stood by the opening and caught up on what was happening—a gunshot went off as Barbossa tested to see if the curse was really lifted. It wasn't. I wondered why but didn't have to wonder long.

"You, maid! Your father, what was his name?" Barbossa snapped, shaking her. "Was your father William Turner?" I couldn't hear her answer but it was obviously a no. "Then where's his child? The child that sailed from England eight years ago, the child in whose veins flows the blood of William Turner? WHERE!"

I gasped. William Turner. They needed Will's blood! Will's father was a pirate! From the _Pearl_! Did he know? How did Barbossa and his crew mistake Elizabeth for a Turner? Did Jack know? Jack… I winced as I remembered he remained unconscious down the path. My heart pounded as I tried to focus. My hopes of helping all this go smoothly had clearly proved useless.

Barbossa hit Elizabeth, tossing her down the incline behind the chest. Despite feeling bad for her obvious pain, I smiled as I realized this would give Will the perfect chance to reach her without being seen.

_All right_, I thought. _I'll wait until Will brings her here, then we'll get Jack, then we'll reach the boat and get away. We can do this._

The crew began shouting as they blamed each other for the failed attempt at the cure. I kept glancing aside in anticipation for Will and Elizabeth, but they never came. Suddenly Barbossa was yelling orders to find Elizabeth and the medallion. I caught a glimpse of her purple dress disappearing behind a wall on the other side of the cavern and felt a brief moment of panic as I realized there was a change in plans. The pirates had already begun to scatter, so I ran as fast as I could back to Jack's location.

When I found him he was just beginning to stand up. I raced to his side to help steady him.

"Will has Elizabeth, we need to get back to the boat!"

"Mmm?" he mumbled. He took a step but tripped over the oar at his feet, falling face-first back onto the floor and taking me with him. I strained to help him up again, mentally cursing Will for making this more difficult, when suddenly the cause of the difficulty appeared around the corner.

"Charlotte, let's go!"

"Help me get him to the boat!"

"There's no time, just leave him! Elizabeth and I took the oars from their boats, but it won't hold them for long."

I gaped as I realized Will had no intention of getting all four of us back to the _Interceptor_. My Captain was still in a daze at my feet and my friend was ready to abandon him. My gut twisted. I couldn't blame Will, but as loudly as common sense screamed in my head to follow him and Elizabeth to escape, something else refused to let me move. I reached for Jack again to help him up, limbs shaking from the strain and the quiet panic building up in my veins.

"I'll be your other distraction, go!" I ordered. Will lunged forward towards my arm, protesting, but I turned out of his reach before saying more forcefully: "I told you I'd do anything to help you save Elizabeth. But I can't let you leave Jack, and you're running out of time. So don't waste this! Take her and go!"

The emotions that passed over his face took me aback, because combined with the frustration and urgency and confusion, there was almost the same look he gave Elizabeth minutes before: genuine, deep care for my life. I looked away and placed my attention on Jack again, pulling the oar up for him to use as support and hoping Will would get the message. He did, and he disappeared, taking with him the last shred of hope I had that he might change his mind and help us both.

"There's the Turner in him…" Jack slurred with a dark look, still dizzy but beginning to steady himself and realize what had just happened. (In the back of my mind I noted Jack did, in fact, know about the significance of Will's blood. _Of course he does_.) I moved his arm around my shoulders again.

"We need to hide," I said, directing him towards the path Will initially took to reach the area behind the chest. As far as I could tell, the crew had left the cavern through the opposite side and were working their way dangerously close to our current location. I didn't know where their boats were, but they couldn't have been far from ours.

"I have ano'ver idea," he replied, turning me in the opposite direction. He moved to take a step but I held him back, wondering if he had entirely regained consciousness yet and knew what he was doing. He acknowledged my hesitation with a crooked grin. "Have I ever given _you_ reason not to trust me?" I shook my head, momentarily distracted by how close our faces were since I was still helping support him.

"No, Captain."

"Good."

So we walked down a path towards the increasing noise of the searching pirates. Jack became more steady with each step, but kept his arm around my shoulders anyway. The gentle weight helped steady my nerves. Barely thirty seconds had passed before we walked square into the path of nearly half the crew. They looked up at Jack with astonishment, completely ignoring my presence in light of their former Captain.

"You're supposed to be dead!" one stated. Jack opened his arms slightly as if about to bow.

"Yet here I stand," he said with a wry smile. Swords unsheathed behind us; now we were surrounded. Jack tapped the oar on the ground and proclaimed: "Parlulilay!"

The surrounding crew and I paused in confusion. Then I whispered to him, "Parlay?"

"That's the one—parlay!"

The one who spoke before repeated the word through gritted teeth. "_Damn_ to the depths whatever man that thought up parlay!"

Jack plugged the pirate's pistol with his fingers. "That would be the French."

Barbossa suddenly appeared in the back of the crowd and pushed forward. Jack took his arm off my shoulders to lean casually on the oar, but I fought the urge to take a step behind him, even though my instincts wanted to put as much between myself and Barbossa as possible.

"How the blazes did you get off that island?" he said.

"When you marooned me on that godforsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate…" Jack replied smoothly, pausing for the look on Barbossa's face. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Ah, well I won't be making that mistake again." He seemed to notice me for the first time. "And who be this, Cap'n, your new first mate?" The crew laughed, but Jack held the same cocky expression he had before. Barbossa spoke up again over the laughter. "Gents, you all remember 'Captain' Jack Sparrow. Kill him."

The circle of pistols around us clicked in harmony as they were prepared and aimed towards both of us. This time I couldn't stop myself from grabbing onto Jack's coat. Before my life had time to flash before my eyes, Jack spoke up.

"The girl's blood didn't work, did it?"

Barbossa stopped in his slow retreat and barked, "Hold your fire!" He turned around and looked almost grudgingly to Jack again. "You know whose blood we need."

Jack lips curled up slightly and I realized this was his plan all along. This was the leverage… Will was right.

"I know whose blood you need."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for reading! Just wanted to mention that as the story goes on, I'm going to try to avoid quoting too much of the movie all the time… after all, Charlotte won't be there for every scene, and her presence in some scenes is bound to change some things, right? ;) That said, drop me a review and let me know if you think there's too much (or too little) quoting going on. Thanks again!


End file.
